Harry Potter and the New Lives
by Steve2
Summary: Alternate reality. After the war, 7th year Harry Potter is transported into an AU where Neville is ‘TheBoyWhoLived’. How will the powerful Shadow Mage Harry Potter get accustomed to a new life as a ‘nobody’? Now SilverAegis approved 25May2007
1. Prologue: October 31st, 1981

**Harry Potter and the New Lives**

**By Steve2**

**Disclaimer****: Not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Bummer that. But it gives me a chance to play with some nifty characters.**

**Alternate reality (AU). After the war ended, 7th year Harry Potter is transported into an AU where Neville is 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. How will the powerful Shadow Mage Harry Potter get accustomed to a new life as a 'nobody'? Why was he sent there to begin with? And what happened to the Harry he displaced? So many questions, so few chapters…**

**This story was inspired by SilverAegis's Harry Potter and the New Life. But since it appears that he has abandoned it, I have decided to rewrite it and add an ending. Good news: I have this thing totally plotted out. Bad news: it's not totally written out so you'll have to wait while I scribe each chapter (of which I have ideas for the next 30 chapters). And of course if SilverAegis ever decides to start writing this story again, I might be persuaded to cease writing my version.**

**Read and review might get you a cameo in this story, providing I like the review, or even if I really hate it. Or you could give me money. That works just as good as cash.  
(Heh-heh-heh – I really love those Yogi-isms).**

**Update: After the initial two chapters of this story went out, SilverAegis dropped me a review and gave me permission to take his story and update it as I see fit. Not all of his ideas and settings will make it to this story, but some will and you (the reader) will probably see these if you've read his story. If you haven't read his story, then all of this will be new to you.**

Prologue – October 31st, 1981 

As a man walked down a hallway towards the foyer, he suddenly heard the front door crack and shatter, wood pieces flying all around him. Shielding his face with one hand, his wand in the other, he looked through the carnage to see a terrifying figure.

"He's here!" the man shouted to someone upstairs. "Take the boy and get away! I'll hold him off!"

Lord Voldemort surveyed the scene. Door fragments littered the floor and were also impaled into the wall and staircase. He smiled at the man for informing him of where his target was. "_Avada Kedavra!_" he said automatically. Oops, he was going to offer the now dead man a chance to join him first but his enthusiasm got the better of him. Oh well, there's always the woman to tempt.

He quickly ascended the stairs and made his way to the room where a woman was swearing. Oh good, Voldemort thought, she must have found the anti-apparation wards. So nice of people to test his handiwork.

He entered the room and she stopped looking around to stare him in the eyes. If she was going to die, it would be standing and not groveling. She placed herself in front of the crib and her charge.

"Stand aside, woman," Voldemort commanded, his lips thinning at the anticipated execution. He needed to get this one over with and head for the other child mentioned in the prophecy.

"I know what you want. I will not allow it. You will have to go through me to get my grandson," she snarled, quickly throwing six successive reducto's at the dark lord. Smiling, he barely moved his wand to block all shots, rebounding one of them back towards her. She was not as spry as she once was and the curse clipped her on her cheek, whipping her head to the side. A smattering of her blood fell on her grandson who was quickly beginning to realize that something was not right.

"Stand aside and I'll let you live," Voldemort offered again. Not that he'd let her live – but it was certainly fun watching their reactions when they realized it once they'd capitulated.

"I love my grandson, you monster. I'd as soon as see you in Hell first than let anything happen to him," she snapped, sending more spells towards him. His shield absorbed most spells and those that it couldn't he simply sidestepped.

Voldemort knew he had a timetable to keep, so a quick "_Avada Kedavra_" later the old woman was dead on the floor. Smirking, he approached the crib to see the young boy looking up at him.

"So, you're the child of prophecy. Enjoy the afterlife, child, for there is no room for you here." He raised his wand to utter the killing curse.

Ten minutes later aurors led by Frank and Alice Longbottom broke through the wards surrounding the house. "Check the main floor!" Frank yelled at his coworkers as he and Alice flew up the stairs to the second level. Moments later they found the carnage in the nursery.

"Neville! Oh, Neville, my baby!" Alice sobbed in desperation as she made her way to the crib. To her amazement she saw her baby son alive. His cheek was bleeding but he was alive!

Frank surveyed the scene after noticing his son was alive. He saw his mother on the floor near some dark wizard robes. He recognized Voldemort's wand in the robes. "Oh, mom," he choked out as he verified she was dead.

Mad-eye Moody stopped at the door. "Perkins is dead downstairs. Killing curse. What happened here?"

Training kicking in, but tears still in his eyes, Frank said, "My mother fought Lord Voldemort here. He must have killed her. Residual Killing Curse magic is still on her body. He must have then attempted to kill my son but the prophecy protected him. He's still alive after that monster shot a killing curse at him as well."

"What happened to you-know-who?" Moody asked, surveying the room and seeing the robes.

"Neville must have killed him. Possibly spell backlash. Here's V-Vo-you-know-who's robes and wand. You know he'd never leave the wand behind if he were still alive."

"Your son killed a dark lord? Good boy."


	2. Chapter 1: School's Over Sorta

Chapter 1: School's Over… Sorta 

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione screeched throughout the Head Boy and Girl common room.

In all the years that Hermione had known him, he thought, when had using all three of his names worked to get his attention? For the past several months, the tension in the common room had been getting worse and worse to point where Harry had decided to keep a series of privacy and silencing spells in play at all times. He was only too sure that Hermione was going to yell his name a few dozen more times.

"Hmm...?" Harry made a non-intelligent noise while ignoring his bushy haired friend who was screeching at him. It had something to do with studying. He was sure of it. If only he would listen, but then that would negate what he was doing. Which was not listening at all. It's not like she had much to say anyway...

"Don't 'Hmm' me!" she replied hotly.

"Hmm..."

Hermione sighed and looked down at the floor, her arms dropping to her sides in resignation. Then her eyes and hands went up as if beseeching the almighty for some guidance.

Ever since Harry had defeated Voldemort three and a half months ago he had become withdrawn and silent. Her eyes brimmed with the raw events she had witnessed on February 14th. Many people had died in that very battle – fortunately the greater majority of them had been death eaters. Harry's parents' last friend had died: Remus Lupin. However it wasn't Remus that made Harry withdrawn, it was Ginny Weasley. Ginny had died that day also.

And to make matters worse, it wasn't just any day that she died. It had been the day Harry had proposed to her – Valentines Day. The dozens of red roses he had given to her that morning laid with her later that night in her coffin.

Hermione had seen a big shift in her friend since then. After that day she had noticed that Harry was afraid of getting close to people again.

Harry had felt the changes himself. He seemed to shut down when his heart skipped and the cold pit of his stomach ached like he never knew it could. So many people wanted to be friends with him, but he didn't want any new friends. He especially didn't want a new girlfriend like the ones that kept throwing themselves at him. They had a bad habit of dying.

Harry still had current friendships, but the one he had with Ron went downhill within days of Ginny's death. Ron was using the fame as the buddy of The-Boy-Who-Lived to his advantage. Interviews, parties, events that needed someone famous to show up. He was in demand only because Harry didn't want it. And Ron wasn't going to let that ride slip him by. True, he missed his sister but he had told Harry that he'd grieved for her already and it was time to move on. After all, that's what Ginny would have wanted.

Harry kept replaying those memories over and over in his head. That's what Ginny would have wanted. How the hell did he know? He hadn't been as close to her as Harry had been. He didn't know what thoughts kept her awake at night, nor those that scared her during the day. He was a brother that had gone off to school and never looked back at his family unless he needed something. But Ron had been right about one thing: Ginny would have wanted Harry to go on with his life. Of course, he needed to properly mourn for her for about a decade, but that was to be expected, he smiled at the thought of her sharp tongue. She had been joking when she said she would mourn for him for a decade if Voldemort did him in, and she expected the same of him – and he knew his mourning for her would be over when it was over – but he had no idea when that was.

After all, he missed her. He really did. She was the first person to show him what it was like to be loved.

Harry thought back on his friends to get off that morbid topic. All three of the trio was powerful: but Harry was _extremely_ powerful for his age. He had been nicknamed like Dumbledore had been in his youth. However unlike the Headmaster (whose nickname had been Mr. Goats), Harry was officially labeled 'The Hero of Light,' or 'Lighty'. Unofficially, he was called 'Mini-Dumbledore.' It was magical binding title when he was given with his Order of Merlin 1st class in which they didn't tell him until he accepted his award. He knew he should have skived off going to that ceremony but couldn't ditch the damn award afterwards. It had a homing spell on it. Bloody useless government officials.

He hated that title. More than anything these days, Harry hated it. He blamed it on Arthur Weasley who was now the Minister of Magic. His father-figure just waved it off and told him he should be proud of his title. As for Ron and Hermione, as a trio, they were known as 'The Powerful Three' when they had battled against death eaters. Now, they were three remaining students finishing up school. Harry had some anonymity with the rest of the student body as they already knew him, and knew to not bother him. But that wasn't going to be the case when he graduated. He was not looking forward to it at all.

Harry was lonely. He wasn't depressed; he knew he should continue living without any regret, but his gut told him that something was about to happen in the near future. Something big. He ignored his gut instincts telling him to skip that lousy award dinner, so there was no way he was going to ignore it again. Harry wasn't sure if it would be bad or good. Knowing his luck, it would be bad. What was that old saying? _If it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all_.

While everything had gone back to normal for the Wizarding world following Voldemort's downfall, Harry couldn't go back to an easy life. His nerves were still on edge. His senses were always heightened to the point he just couldn't get comfortable in any setting unless he was by himself. In a secure room. He would still wear his battle robes and conceal all his weapons on him. He grew up every year with something bad about to happen, so he was going to be prepared in life.

Life was odd with peace. No worries about Voldemort, just peace. And that was odd.

And more importantly, it was beginning to annoy Harry. He had nothing to do. Absolutely infuriating!

He already knew all the NEWT level material. Following his godfather's death, following the first bout of grieving for a family member, he had been tutored by Dumbledore, the Flamels, and several Order members independently. He easily rivaled Hermione in knowledge and practical. Harry was now Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. Harry had overheard several girls talking about him the other week saying that he was one of the hottest guys in school. He was sure they wanted to be overheard but after Ginny, he had no intention of dating anyone for the foreseeable future. The pain was still too fresh.

"Harry..." Hermione started again, quietly.

"Hmm...?" Harry was writing inside his journal. He had always kept a written journal as long as he could remember. He'd never had a friend until he was 11, so he had written a journal to keep him company somewhat. It wasn't the same as a real friend, but it did the trick at the time. And it wasn't just any journal either. It was Harry's journal. It was _his_. His thoughts, his feelings, a piece of him. Hopefully not like Riddle's twisted diary, but instead a source of healing emotion written down where he could remember it at a later date.

He even wrote down some of the things he learned on it – what actually happened in all of his battles, how he arrived at the decisions he made, and even some of the research that had gone into the final list of spells that did in the dark wanker.

Of course, no one would read it; Harry had enchanted it so it was unnoticeable to all but those of Potter blood. Maybe he'd leave it in a vault one day and his descendants could read it. Or they could have had Ginny... no! Don't think of that again!

"Would you please say something? You've been like this for months now!" Hermione pleaded. She was finally starting to crack. Her best friend Harry Potter was just too silent for her tastes.

"Hmm..." Harry replied.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione screeched again, her voice cracking.

There were several minutes of silence... Hermione was about to start yelling again until Harry spoke up.

"Don't waste your breath, Hermy, I just don't feel like talking," Harry said calmly.

"Harry! Don't call me that! And gosh! You're talking! Oh my god, that's the first time I heard you speak outside of clubs and head boy duties!" she said mocking him to get a rise.

He didn't fall for it.

Another moment of silence...

She huffed and stormed to her room in anger. She was probably going to go talk to Ron later. Not like he cared.

Harry just rolled his eyes and finished his journal. After he was done, Harry then left to make his rounds around Hogwarts. Harry had to admit, life is so boring without adventure. Ron was now dating Hermione, at times. They were dating on and off even though Ron cheated on Hermione due to the fame that went to his head. That's probably what helped him get over Ginny's death so soon. But Hermione was just as forgiving as usual. It bothered Harry that Hermione was so forgiving, especially when she started yapping about it in the common room as if he was listening instead of doing his schoolwork.

Harry had loved Hermione, first as a friend, then as something more... but he never researched those feelings as he saw she had feelings for Ron. He then caught Ginny and it was nothing like he thought it could have been with Hermione. It was so much better. Harry figured he must have simply been infatuated with Hermione but he was never sure. What he was certain of was that he did not want to forgive either Ron or Hermione's accusations that Harry was turning dark.

It had been last November when they caught him in the Room of Requirement practicing spellwork against life-like dummies of known death-eaters. The spells had not been classified dark mainly because no one knew they existed. They were customized spells that Harry had developed for his next meeting with Voldemort and his prancing minions. Harry knew that while strength was with him, the numbers facing him would not be, so he needed an advantage. Harry had started a year earlier on illusion spells and was now considered a virtual master of the field. He could create visual illusions like most other wizards and witches, but his specialty was in creating full illusions – those that mixed visual, sound, feel, taste, smell, and in some cases, sensory depravation to achieve his goal. These illusions were so good that they often allowed opponents to think they were being attacked by unforgivables and their own imaginations took care of the rest. The best part of it was that while unforgivables took a lot of energy to cast, his illusions took next to no power and next to no time to charge up and send them shooting.

So now enter his two sidekicks who saw him practicing his "dark" spells. True, some were more than illusions. Once a fiend was down, Harry intended for them to stay down. For good. Ron of course immediately accused him of turning dark and while Hermione was at first unconvinced, she ultimately sided with Ron and expressed her opinion of her not wanting to see him turn dark and that he should talk to Dumbledore about all this. Maybe find a way stop his soul turning black.

Maybe Harry could have handled the situation better but when he had been training every day for over a year to make sure his friends would live to see their 18th birthday, only to have them call him a dark s-o-b wizard, he ripped them each a new one and left them to stew in their own thoughts while he got back to work. Days later Hermione gave him a half-assed attempt at an apology which he never really accepted since she was only saying it to gain his friendship back, not that she was convinced he wasn't turning dark. She continued to try to get him to renounce his dark ways for the next several weeks until he told her to go stuff herself.

Meanwhile, Ron was having his own hissy-fit and not speaking to Harry _yet_ again. Harry had been down this road too often with his prat of a friend so he simply told himself he was washing his hands of any sort of friendship the jerk cared to offer. Both of them were surprised to find out Harry was dating Ginny during the Christmas holiday. There were more harsh words on Ron's part to Ginny then, but she told him what Harry had told Hermione: to go stuff himself.

The Christmas holiday had its moments of good time and bad. Good was with Ginny. Bad was with Hermione and Ron, so he avoided them during the break as much as possible. Once school resumed Albus had noticed the split between friends and attempted to get them to reconcile. Harry wasn't having any of it. He no longer felt the pressing need to have their friendship, fickle as it was. January slid into February and Harry proposed marriage to Ginny. A curse had cut her down later that day and by day's end he had exacted his revenge on the dark jerk that had ruined his life.

The next day Hermione and Ron finally apologized for thinking he was dark. Numb, he didn't rebuke them. He should have, but he just didn't have the energy to do it. Ginny was gone.

Over the ensuing weeks they tried to get him to reignite their friendship. Harry stayed quiet. Harry was treated as the one who should voice his opinion, comment on the fact that those two were dating again. Again, he stayed quiet. They constantly asked him to decide who was right in the relationship when arguments erupted but Harry just ignored them and talked only when it was necessary. He had important matters to think about, not useless and pointless trivial concerns. Their love life, or lack thereof (by Hermione's standards since they weren't married and she wasn't giving it up, no siree Bob), was not something he cared to think about.

During his rounds as Head Boy, he usually caught several people kissing in secluded corners or some people almost half dressed in broom closets around the castle. Unlike most prefects and Head Boys, Harry didn't give detention unless they didn't listen to the warning he first gave them; he just told them go back to their dorm or Filch would find them. When they did ignore him and resume their make out session, he would then get serious and give them a week's detentions without a care.

It was easy to locate the couples thanks to the Marauders map. He hadn't used the map for this purpose before Ginny had died, but now he needed a distraction to keep his head from exploding in grief. He also didn't care if they did their kissing, snogging, and what have you before curfew. But once the 10pm chime sounded, he didn't want to find anyone as he walked the dark corridors of the castle. He didn't really care that some of the students were calling him "Mr. Anti-Snog." He just didn't want anything to happen to the students on his watch.

Not again.

Harry took his Head-boy duties seriously much to the teachers' delight. Some students thought he was a bit harsh when handing out punishments but several teachers disabused that notion when they talked about previous Head-boys such and the corruption of power they wielded.

Ron, of course, was jealous that Harry was Head-boy when he'd never been a prefect like him, but he quickly learned to curb his tongue after the third time in as many weeks he found himself in the Forbidden Forest with Filch for detention. As for late night rendezvous locations, Harry made sure nobody could use the Room of Requirement. That door was now sealed where only Dumbledore, the Flamels, or the professors could unlock it.

After his rounds were done and the last of the amorous students had been rousted out of their hiding holes before they could bless the world nine months later with the results of their coupling, Harry sat on a hill outside Hogwarts. He was allowed to leave the castle whenever he wanted to. Not like any one could stop him, especially at night. One of the advantages of being a Shadow Mage is that he could travel through shadows. All it took was the will to move and the imagination to conceptualize where he needed to go and the shadows would absorb him, only to place him where he wanted to go in the blink of an eye.

While sitting under the stars, Harry pondered and organized his thoughts. After the final battle had ended, at least half the students in Slytherin were gone. When Harry killed Voldemort with a soul destroying curse, he and everyone linked to him with the Dark Mark died. That included many students, and not all from Slytherin. Snape had been killed at the end of Harry's 6th year after showing his true colors. Those Slytherin students not killed outright had been suspected sympathizers and public outcry against their return was too much for Dumbledore to ignore. Most of those students had transferred to Beauxbatons Academy while a few had gone to private tutors.

Draco Malfoy, for all his money, prestige and pure-blooded bigotry, had decided to try and attack Harry through his friends long before that battle and on October 15th had lured Hermione to a secluded classroom with the full intention of raping her. He had been polyjuiced to look like Ron and Hermione thought she was simply going to get in some kissing between classes. Harry had followed her when he caught a sense of something being off from his friend. Later, he found that the perfume that she had gotten as a birthday present had reacted to a spell Malfoy had shot at her, leaching common sense out of the intended victim. It wasn't a dark potion but only semantics kept it from being labeled as such.

Harry slipped into blackness and attached himself to her shadow, walking down the same corridors she went through. When she met Malfoy, he calmly explained what he was going to do and how she wasn't going to remember anything other than Ron having taken her at Harry's insistence. Hermione's eyes were still glazed over from the effects of the spell while she started to disrobe, Malfoy laughing at the irony of it. Harry had heard enough and stunned his friend. He then disarmed Malfoy and ripped into his mind to find anything of potential value. Blood freely running out of his nose from the intrusion, Malfoy started to talk some smack at his arch nemesis, not really understanding how outclassed he really was.

Harry summoned the tainted perfume and poured it down Malfoy's mouth. A few minutes later as the potion took effect, Harry asked Malfoy to go take a swim in the lower part of the lake. Without the benefit of a bubble head charm or any other air. Malfoy agreed that that sounded like a grand idea and out he went. Harry, feeling guilty at the impending demise, then summoned some raw meat to stuff into Malfoy's pockets to get the merpeople good and riled up to rip him apart. Which they did and no one was any more aware of it than he was. Certainly not Hermione who didn't remember anything from that afternoon once she woke up back in her bed just prior to dinner.

He thought about that day every now and then. He wasn't really sorry about what he had done. He had removed a potential adversary. He was an annoyance when it was just Malfoy vs. Potter. But when he decided to take his sick fantasies out on his friends, he was a liability that needed removing. He regretted that Malfoy had gone down the path he did, but it was his choice.

After gathering his thoughts he decided to go visit Ginny's grave. He went there at least once every week. Sometimes more, never less. He was going to marry her; they were going to have a fine house. Even get a dog before they had children. She was going to show him the wonders of the world. Take him to see an ocean, or a desert in Egypt. They'd had plans.

Then all that crap happened. Voldemort. That big s-o-b. And now he wouldn't live a happy ending. He was alone again.

Ginny was buried at Godric's Hollow near his parents. Harry had requested it since she was his intended. The Weasleys made no objection; they were happy that Harry had loved Ginny so much that he wanted her buried in the Potter cemetery.

Now standing in front of her grave, Harry conjured hundreds of red roses to place around her tombstone.

"Hi, Ginny. It's me again," Harry started, sitting down on the cool grass.

After an hour of talking about what was happening at school, Harry sat there and stared at her grave. He sighed to himself. He didn't cry – the tears were no longer coming like they used to. He guessed he must be healing somewhat. He knew from Dumbledore that death wasn't just an end but the start of another adventure.

An adventure he wanted to accompany his dead girlfriend with, not alone. After a half hour of silence he laid his head on her grave and looked up to the stars. The quiet sounds of nature could be heard in the distance. Crickets, frogs, other creatures making noise. No humans.

Harry noticed a shooting star burning in the sky. Deciding to try his luck, he made a wish. "I wish I wasn't alone anymore. I wish I had a new life," he said as his eyes closed following the end of another long day.

After a few minutes, he slowly fell asleep. He could hear the crickets chirping and wondered what they were saying. He wondered if they thought he was crazy for spending as much time as he did at the gravesite. If he had looked at the sky again, he would have seen the shooting star explode into bright red-blue stars similar to when his broken time turner from the battle started to glow and spun backward and then vanished.

**(((o)))**

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was exhausted. He looked around him and noticed something was different. No... _Everything_ was different. Ginny's grave that Harry had fallen asleep on was gone! The flowers that he left for her were gone! What the hell? He went to his parents' gravesite and noticed it wasn't there either! He distinctly remembered leaving flowers for them and all the Potters resting there, but all it was gone!

"If this is some kind of sick joke I'm going to beat the crap out of whoever did it!" Harry exclaimed to whoever was pranking him.

Then he noticed his voice... it sounded like a little kid. Slowly but carefully he looked down at his body and noticed that he had shrunk!

"What the hell is going on?!" Harry screamed in frustration.

It took Harry 10 minutes to calm down, during which time he examined himself. A few conclusions were self-evident. He had shrunk big time! Ginny and his parent's graves weren't there, so... it was probably some sick joke – wasn't it?

He was not wearing any of his gear. His weapons were gone, heck – even his wand was gone. And no one could take his wand without alerting him to it as there were dozens of wards in place to make sure of it. Moody's lessons had paid off in that regard at least.

The clothes he had on fit well but they were for a slightly overweight boy of around 10 or 11 or so. There was a broom nearby, but when Harry went to investigate he found it broken. "Figures," Harry groused. "Just keeps getting better and better with my luck."

Harry took a mental inventory of himself. He could clearly remember going to classes, learning magic, and discovering his shadow abilities. That ruled out him simply having dreamed his life while sleeping in a graveyard. The sun was already up and the temperature outside reminded him of May or June so he wouldn't freeze. He walked over to a tree and slipped into the shadow it cast only to reappear near a mausoleum about 20 meters distant. Those powers were still intact.

"Accio wand!" Harry summoned. Nothing happened. _The wand must be out of range_, he thought.

Harry had no idea why someone would go to such steps to create an elaborate hoax like this, but once he found out who it was, a beating was going to be too good for them. Ron; it was probably Ron. Jerk.

_I just don't get why he decided to shrink me down to a child again. And how did he get my armour off without me knowing it? Did Fred and George help him?_

A rumbling in his stomach indicated that Harry needed to get something to eat. Not trusting himself to shadow to Hogwarts and **not** put Ron into St. Mungo's for a fortnight, Harry opted to walk off some of his anger before heading back to school. And meeting with his former friend. Jerk.

Harry had never really explored Godric's Hollow much beyond the gravesite. It was a small town with a quiet atmosphere.

"Hi, Harry, how are you today?" a middle-aged man asked while walking his dog alongside the road.

"Uh… fine, sir. Yourself?" Harry replied guardedly.

"Just taking little Archie here out for his duty walk. You okay there?"

"Sure. Fine," Harry answered.

"It's just you look a little pale. Well, come on, Archie, let's allow this boy to get home. See you around, Harry. Come on over next time you want to see Paul." The strange man left with his dog in tow.

That was odd, Harry reflected. Odd that the man wasn't surprised to see him but he greeted him like they knew each other when Harry was certain he'd never met the man before. True, he could have felt that he knew the Boy-Who-Lived like many other stalkers did, but this guy didn't look at this scar or anything. And he wasn't fazed that Harry was no longer a 17-year old but instead looked like he was 10 again.

How strange...

While he was walking, someone tackled him and both of them fell. He was set to pull out his dagger, but a couple things stopped him. First, Harry remembered that he had killed all the death eaters and he was pretty certain that no one would attack him in broad daylight. Second, he remembered that his dagger was gone. Ron probably took it for this prank. Jerk. And third, he had been tackled by a kid.

"Ouch! Hey, you should watch where you're..." Harry's smile faded as got a good look at his 'attacker'. The person that tackled him to the ground was now sitting on his chest. It was a girl around 8 or 9 years old with red hair girl and green eyes. She looked like his mum.

"Harry! Where were you! Mummy and daddy are searching all over for you! You know how worried we've been?" she said through tears.

Harry was shocked. What the hell was she talking about? Seeing that she was about to cry again, he immediately hugged her. "I'm fine, Sheila, don't worry," he soothed. Then it hit him. How did he know that her name was Sheila?

When he let her go, she gave him an odd look. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, sis," he replied. Sis? What the hell?

"What happened to your forehead? It's bloody," she said.

He touched his scar and true enough there was crusty blood around it. Touching the tender area made him wince.

"I knew it, you're hurt, big brother," Sheila said. "What happened? Where've you been? You've been missing since yesterday! Uncle Sirius and Remus..." But Harry didn't hear the rest.

He froze. 'Big brother, Uncle Sirius, and Uncle Remus?' This is taking a prank too far! Ron was going to be lucky if he ever got his face put back to normal after he got through with him. Bloody jerk.

"Look, I'm fine now. Why don't we just worry about getting you back home," he placated, hoping to find out what this prank was all about. He didn't know what was going on, but he was going to have to go along with it. For now that is.

"Ok!" she said excitedly while dragging him by his arm down a street, then up another one towards the house where his parents once lived. Only… this house was not a burned out shell like he had see last February. It was intact.

And inhabited.

"Hey, Harry?" the red head said excitedly.

"Yeah?" Harry stammered while trying to shift his gaze from the large house coming into better view.

"Where are your glasses?"

"What glasses? I haven't needed them…" he started, then stopped.

"Haven't needed them?" she replied. "Since when?"

"Um… since now?" he finished lamely. No sense in giving her an advantage that he'd had his eyesight magically corrected last September.

"Huh?" She gave him a confused look. "Well, mom's not gonna be happy that you lost them, you know."

Harry was speechless. He was still in shock. A girl that resembled his mum and calling him her brother still did not compute in his head.

"Harry!" a hysteric voice screamed. Before he knew it, he was hugged by a red haired woman who was crying on his shoulder. He heard multiple footsteps approaching.

"Huh?"

"Harry!" a bunch people called his name.

When the woman released him, what he saw made him freeze.

His mother...

Immediately he jumped back and got into a fighting hand stance. He didn't pull out any weapons, because he didn't like killing in front of children. Plus, the jerk had taken them from him. "This isn't funny!" Harry snarled.

"Harry, what?" the confused woman asked while tears rolled down her eyes.

"Hey, what's going on?" a familiar voice spoke from behind the woman, but it sounded rich and healthy.

When Harry saw the person, he couldn't help but shout. "Sirius!" Harry was overjoyed at seeing him even though he looked back at Harry strangely as if unsure why his godson would be so happy to see him. Usually it was the other way around.

"Hey squirt, where have you been and what are you doing?" Sirius asked giving him a strange look.

"Huh?" Harry noticed he was still in his fighting stance. He relaxed a bit, looking around at everyone. He didn't recognize a single face of the youngsters but he instinctively knew their names. Alex, Leon, Sylvia, Rose…

Another person came into view. Harry froze. It was his father.

"Uhhh... " Harry said, unsure of anything. He stretched his shadow senses to see what was wrong. These people couldn't be here. Only… his sense told him that there was no hatred or animosity from anyone there. Only a few had annoyance, while others had love, kindness, relief. Harry continued to look around as if in a daze.

"Harry, we've been looking all over for you. You didn't come home yesterday!" his father yelled. That's where the annoyance was coming from.

Harry looked unsure what to do so he spoke softly. "Sorry dad," he said in a low voice. He didn't know what was going on, but he decided to play along.

Everyone gave him a strange look.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked slowly.

"Harry... " Sheila spoke up.

"You never apologize," Lily finished while looking shocked.

Harry didn't know what to do, so he shrugged. "First time for everything," he smiled weakly.

There was a moment of silence.

"Harry's hurt," Sheila said. "It's on his forehead."

"What?" Lily said, quickly lifting Harry's messy hair up to get a better view.

"I'm fine," Harry said automatically.

"No you're not," his mother replied forcefully. "Let's get you home. I'll clean it up there, out of view from the muggles. You don't feel like you need to go to St. Mungos, do you?"

"It's nothing new," Harry pleaded. The last place he wanted to go to was St. Mungos. They never wanted to release him.

"Nothing new? I beg to differ, young man. If I'm not mistaken, that's going to leave a scar."

"C'mon, Lils, you pampering him in front of everyone is going to leave an even bigger scar. Besides, scars on boys build character, and that one looks like a beaut. A lightning bolt if I had to guess. Does it hurt?"

"Not really…" Harry started.

Fwap. Harry's dad flicked the scar with a finger.

"Ouch, what was that for?"

"It hurts," James told Lily.

"C'mon kid, let's get you home. You had us all worried," Sirius said calmly, steering all the other kids back towards the house.

With an arm around her son, Lily Potter started off towards home. Harry took stock of his situation like Moody had trained him to do. Fact: no one was wearing robes. Pure blood mania usually had those jerks wearing some sort of archaic clothing. Everything his "family" wore looked new and off the shelf. His mother wore a sun-dress, the kids wore contemporary clothes he'd find Dudley possibly wearing if he were 150 pounds lighter, and James and Sirius wore shorts of all things. Their knobby knees were exposed to the air.

Fact: there were no wands in view. That was a good thing for him. That meant there were muggles nearby. That could mean that none of the pure bloods were close as they were always afraid of "muggle infection," a term Harry used to sum up their point of view much like a little girl in grade school would say a boy has cooties.

Fact: he knew the names of everyone there. He also remembered playing in the house they were headed towards. He knew Sirius lived across the street with his wife and kids.

Harry went carefully. He was fully alert. He may not sense danger, but he was cautious. His eyes were shooting around all over. He didn't think anyone noticed, but all of them noticed something was off with Harry. Only the kids looked as if nothing was unusual.

"Hey squirt, you ok?" Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

When they approached the mansion, Harry was feeling uneasy. He tried to ignore it, but couldn't when as he was surrounded by three people that were supposed to be dead.

"You found Harry!" Remus shouted from the door of the house. He had a big smile on his face as he held the hand a young child about 3 – Lily Jr.

Make that four people that were supposed to be dead.

Heading up the stairs and through the door, Harry heard people cheer from another room. Multiple feet stomped the floor until they surrounded him.

Harry thought he was seeing things. It was obvious that the people in front of him were his brothers and sisters. What else he saw was Sirius' children and wife, a woman he had never met before. Yet knew her name was Amy.

He just gave them a blank look and analyzing each of them. He wasn't even paying attention while they were talking. He snapped out of it when most everyone else left to go do some other things that definitely didn't involve looking for Harry. He was left alone with his mother.

"Okay, dear, let's get that cut looked at upstairs. Let me get my wand," she did, "and let's see… what was that spell again? Ah," she quickly cast a diagnostic charm. "Just a slight bump on the head, that's good." She washed out a cloth and cleaned the area around the cut. "It doesn't look deep but let's not take any chances. I'll get a healing potion for you and then I want you to lie down while it works as it'll make you a little dizzy. You got that, young man?"

Harry looked at her longingly, his eyes beginning to moisten.

"Harry dear, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She checked his forehead for a temperature.

"Errr... " Harry said unsure. "Thanks… mum," he choked out.

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't had that potion and from what I remember, it tastes awful. That was a joke, honey."

"Oh, right."

"Really, Harry, do you feel alright?"

"I'm… I'm not sure," he replied truthfully. "You said something about a potion?"

"Yes. Come on, young man. To the kitchen."

She set off on a brisk pace and within seconds they were in the kitchen where Lily rummaged through a cabinet of old-looking jars. Finding what she wanted, she gave it to Harry. "Drink up. All of it."

He pulled the stopper and sniffed it first. Constant vigilance and all that rot. It smelled non-poisonous. That was good enough for him as he downed the potion. True to her word, it tasted horrible. "Ugh."

"Now, now, to bed with you. The effects should kick in within a couple minutes. Off you go," Lily smiled.

Harry headed towards the stairs. He looked around the house. It smelled of home. It reminded him of home. It was a nice family home. More importantly, it was _his_ home.

Upstairs he found his bedroom and laid down after taking his shoes off. He had some serious thinking to do. Where was he? Why was he there? Where was here?

And after some crazy theories and thoughts, it came to him like a mental shot.

Years ago Dudley had been assigned a book report. He didn't want to do it so the easiest thing to do was to get his 'freak' cousin to do it for him. The only problem with that logic was that his aunt and uncle had decided that he was not to read any books outside of school as it would corrupt his freakish mind, possibly putting things in there that they couldn't beat out. Or so that was what Harry speculated since they didn't let him do any homework once he was home and ready to begin working for the rest of the day.

Dudley got past this by threatening Harry into doing it after his chores were normally done for the day, telling him to stay up late at night until it was done. Harry didn't care at the time as it beat simply laying on his cot until he fell asleep. This gave him some slight distraction. The book that Dudley had to read was a science fiction novel called, "What Mad Universe" by Fredrick Brown. The premise of the story had been that somehow a man had moved from his reality to an alternate reality where the rest of the story went. The main character had gone from reality to reality, usually based on what he was thinking of at the moment when the event happened to move him. This is what must have happened to him.

He was in an Alternative Universe. Of course in the book the man had moved to a different reality and stayed as himself, wearing the same clothes he had on prior to the event, but Harry was now younger. His body was small. And flabby. His clothes and all his possessions were not there. His wand was missing. He had to have swapped bodies with the Harry in this universe. That was all good for the Harry in his original dimension who had the capital to take care of himself, but for him that wasn't so good as he was dead broke in a strange environment surrounded by people he didn't really know.

Only, he did know them. Lily Potter had a knack for wanting to cook meals. Only she wasn't very good at it and the household didn't employ a house-elf much as his father wanted one. Her husband James, Harry's father, was one of four captains in the Auror division. He ran the weekend shift, which meant he was gone for two full days every week, but was home for the rest of the week. There was more information about his family, such as his sister Rose...

Harry laid in bed for hours as his memory caught up with images, sounds, smells, emotions, joy, pain, everything that it was to be Harry Potter in that dimension. Only, he could tell it was incomplete. After three hours of lying on this bed he had only gotten through the last couple years of his 'life'. There was more, he was sure of it. He needed to review more memories in depth. But at least he had the gist of his family down now.

**Lily and James Sirius and Amy  
**Harry - 10 Alex - 9  
Shelia - 9 Jasmine - 9  
Rose - 9 Amanda - 5  
Leon - 8 Eric - 2  
Sylvia - 4  
Lily - 3

It was June 30th and he was home for the holiday. His sisters and brothers (for he included Alex as a brother as he and Leon were inseparable) had months to play before going back to school. Something had happened yesterday that caused Harry to get worried and late last night he stole away on a broom. He must have crashed and hit his head just prior to them switching positions. That would account for the bump but not the scar. He'd always had the scar – only, did this Harry have a scar. No, he didn't he remembered. He was unmarked. Then, who defeated Voldemort or was there even a Voldemort here?

Ah. Neville Longbottom was the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry hadn't met him but was sure to when they went to Hogwarts. He liked the idea of meeting him. He must be awfully brave to have gotten rid of a dark lord when he was only a year old. Okay, Harry steeled a voice inside his head, enough hero worship on someone you haven't even met.

_This having two sets of memories was going to take a bit to get used to,_ Harry mentally grumbled.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his mother speak. "Harry, what's wrong? The potion wore off over an hour ago. Usually you would be outside playing pranks by now. You're awfully silent," she said analyzing her son's worried look.

"Mum...?" Harry asked, getting off the bed and walking to her. He now had the opportunity to do what he'd always wanted.

"Yes dear?" she gave him an odd look.

He spoke in an embarrassing way. "Can I hug you?"

She didn't know why he just asked that question, but she nodded. She was surprised when he just jumped into an embrace and hugged her. What she heard next made her smile and appreciate her son even more.

"Mum... I... I love you so much." Harry's emotions finally got the better of him and he cried for the first time in a long, long time.

Part of him knew that Ginny would be proud he'd been able to open up again.

He broke down and sobbed onto her apron. She smelled so sweet. The warmth and love she was giving him in her arms made him so comfortable he loved it.

"Shhh... everything will be okay," she said, stroking his hair. Those Potter men. Always with the untamed hair. He ought to save a fortune not needing combs or brushes for the rest of his life. She didn't know what was going on, but she liked it. However something different about him, he was quiet, polite, and seemed like a dear to her. Normally her son would be loud, rash, rude, and she had to admit, annoying. Yet the person in her arms was different. He'd changed. Maybe she should have him go gallivanting off at night more often if this is what it did to him.

"C'mon, sport, you can help me with lunch," she said encouragingly. Together they went back to the kitchen and this time Harry actually helped. It wasn't a large lunch – just a few different soups for the various palates in the family, and enough sandwiches to fill a couple Quidditch teams. Harry watched his mother as often as he could while fixing the sandwiches. She saw him watching her; sometimes he would look away embarrassed, another time when she caught those familiar green eyes starting at her she winked at him and giggled when it caused him to flush red and hurriedly look away.

Harry on the other hand couldn't help but admire his mother. The way she cooked, the way she chopped. It was similar to his style. Of course she really didn't watch what she was putting where and several times he stopped her from putting wrong ingredients in the soups. In no way did Chicken Noodle Soup have beets in it. Or, come to think of it, mustard.

His mother was quite the beauty, he had to admit, she looked very beautiful compared the pictures he saw. For some reason, she reminded him of Ginny. Physically, they were very different, but comfort wise, well, they were spot on.

After an hour or so, everyone came down for lunch. Harry immediately sat by his mother. Harry didn't say anything, but instead listened to all the conversations going on. Shelia and Rose were fraternal twins, with only minor differences. They were both red heads. Shelia had green eyes, and Rose had brown. Leon had black hair like him, but brown eyes like his dad. Sylvia had black hair with green eyes. Little Lily, the youngest of the Potters had red hair and green eyes.

Sirius' children were a surprise. Sirius' wife, Amy, was half Japanese and half American. Alex was the oldest of the Black family with his twin Jasmine who was a girl; he looked exactly like Sirius with black hair and blue eyes. Jasmine on the hand favored her mother with pale blonde hair with brown eyes. She was best friends with Shelia and Rose since they were the same age. Amanda was a mixture. She had brown hair and brown eyes. Baby Eric had black hair, and brown eyes.

Harry had never been in a family setting outside of the Weasleys. Even there, with Mrs. Weasley fussing over him like he had been their child as well, he couldn't help but feel a little like an outsider. Here, however, this was his family. He listened in on the conversations. Some people were quiet, others boisterous and loud. Jokes, pranks, and Quidditch were all being discussed by boys and girls. Harry ate quietly, just enjoying being immersed in a true family setting. They may not have started out as his family, per se, but they were his, right? At least part of his.

Harry's silence did not go unnoticed. Most of the kids, especially Alex and Leon ignored it thinking that Harry still wasn't feeling well. But the adults could tell that something wasn't right with the black-haired boy.

Here, like back where he had come from, Remus was unattached didn't have any children. When Harry asked if he was trying to date anyone, Remus clamped down and just concentrated on eating. It was probably due to his werewolf status that he wasn't with anyone. Harry thought he'd also have to look into seeing if Wolfsbane was created here and if not, he was pretty sure he remembered the ingredients and brewing process.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his mom spoke to him. "Harry, where did you go last night? We didn't even notice you were gone until this morning," Lily asked. Some people stopped talking and listened.

Nervous at being the center of attention, he replied quietly, "I was just wandering around the graveyard. I needed to think some things through last night, and it's a little more peaceful there than here."

The adults nodded and continued to chat around, but Lily gave him an odd look. Maybe she knew Legilimency? No, Harry was a master Occulmencer… okay, maybe not a _master_, but he was pretty sure he could hold his own against most people except Voldemort. And Dumbledore. And even then he was pretty sure they couldn't penetrate his mental barriers without him noticing.

"Where are your glasses, Harry?" his father said.

"Uh…"

"In the graveyard as well? Did you crash?"

"More than likely that's how he got nicked up, James," Sirius replied with a grin aimed at Harry. "Don't worry, after lunch me and Remus'll just nip over there and see if we can't find them, okay?"

"Do I get any say in this?" Remus asked hold a sandwich accusingly towards his friend.

"Stay if you want," Sirius conceded. "I'm sure Eric's diaper needs changing anyway."

"Okay, I'll go. But you didn't coerce me into going. I went of my own free will."

James grinned, "Your own free will to get out of diaper duty. Some nanny you are."

Remus chucked a half-eaten sandwich at his friend. Moments later a full-scale food fight was going on.

After lunch (that James, Sirius and Remus had to clean up and get the food stains out of the curtains), Harry wandered around the house, simply going from room to room. Looking around his room he didn't find a broom and surmised the broken one in the graveyard must have been his. Even at that, it hadn't been a sporting broom – more of a step up from a training broom. He wished he had his Firebolt, or even a Nimbus, but this reality's Harry hadn't been very good on a broom at all. Well, that was something that was going to have to change as Harry really enjoyed flying.

He eventually made his way to the family library. Looking around he found 'Ye Olde Wizards Annual' from 1990 back to 1765. Flipping through the newest edition, he found it was simply a listing of current events for the year. Man, what he wouldn't have given to have something like this when he'd taken History classes. Sure beat having to learn about goblin rebellions.

Figuring the best place to start was the 1981 edition, he started reading the highlights of the year. He desperately needed to know what happened in this dimension.

What he learned shocked him. His parents were never attacked during the first war. Instead Voldemort attacked the Longbottoms first, and Neville became The-Boy-Who-Lived. But what really shocked him was that Peter Pettigrew was listed as the Longbottom's secret keeper and not the Potters! Neville's parents survived the attack, and Neville was left with an 'S'-shaped scar on his cheek. Harry wondered if he still had his parseltongue ability and concluded he probably did since he still had his shadowing skills going for him. Making sure no one was around, he wandlessly summoned a snake and confirmed that his snake speech skill was still in place.

After reading some more history... it said that Peter Pettigrew was to be given the Dementor's kiss, however, because of its cruelty, he was spared. He had earned three life sentences to Azkaban, and Neville became The-Boy-Who-Lived, complete with all the benefits and downfalls associated with the title. It felt odd to Harry knowing that what you are supposed to be was now given to someone else. Not that Harry minded; he didn't like all that fame and animosity anyway.

Harry quickly took books 1981 – 1990 back to his room for some light reading. That was where his parents found him hours later, just as the sun was beginning to set. He looked up at the sound of knocking. "Yeah, mum?"

"Honey, you didn't come over to Sirius and Amy's for dinner tonight. You all right?

"Yeah, kid, you missed dinner," Sirius said, cheerful as ever. He was holding 2-year-old Eric.

"I… I just didn't feel like eating, I suppose."

His mother looked at him with concern and sat down on his bed. She then put a hand up to his forehead. "You don't have a fever. Do you feel lethargic or dizzy at all?"

Just that simple act of kindness, something he'd never experienced at the hands of the Dursleys, reinforced Harry's desire to not return back to his own dimension. He wanted parents. He wanted a family. But there was still that little voice in the back of his head that was a little uncomfortable speaking with several people who were supposed to be dead.

"Harry... what's wrong?" Lily asked.

"Huh? Oh mum, nothing... just nothing... tired I guess." Harry said not meeting her eye.

"Harry? Is something wrong? You're acting funny. You're withdrawn and you're not eating. You've only had one meal today and it wasn't even what you normally eat. You haven't talked with Alex or Leon or even tried to prank your sisters the entire day. And now we find you studying history books in your room? Harry, you never study."

"Yeah," Sirius said while struggling to hold a struggling 2-year-old who had a mind of his own. Little Eric knew that if hadn't been for the diaper these tall people insisted he wear, that his daddy would be wearing a new yellow-wet look right now. "Where's our Harry? What have you done with him?" he joked.

Harry's heart immediately began racing. "Sorry Uncle Sirius." He couldn't look at them at the moment. He was in another dimension. He wondered if he would have to go home if they found out?

"Since when do you call Sirius 'Uncle Sirius'?" James replied.

Harry's frown deepened. He had a guilty look but didn't say anything. He couldn't reveal to them who he was.

"Look, Harry, we're not mad at you if that's what you're thinking," his dad soothed. "Here. We found your glasses earlier and were going to make you stew over them at dinner, but it's not funny any longer. Your broom, however, was a total loss. I guess you were getting a little too big for it anyway."

Harry took the glasses but didn't put them on. He'd charm them later to look like regular glasses even though he'd convert them back to simple uncorrected lenses. This may be a different Harry's body, but his eye correction spellwork he'd done months ago was still working fine.

"Thanks," he said simply. "I… it's nothing. I just… need some space. Good night dad, mum, uncle Sirius, I love you all." Harry closed his eyes to keep his emotions under control. He couldn't believe he was that close to blubbering again. His emotions were simply out of control in this body.

"Here's some leftover dinner, if you want it," his mother put a plate on the dresser.

As the adults left, Sirius looked at James and Lily. "You know, the way he speaks, he sounded like he's about to die or leave," Sirius said in a concerned voice.

"Well he is going to go Hogwarts this fall," James replied. "He got a notice from Minerva yesterday that he was being accepted to Hogwarts and that he'd get his official letter later in July."

Lily was just silent. She was just as confused as ever.

After inhaling the leftovers, Harry then began to work out. While his new body was for the most part healthy, it had little in the way of muscle mass. So he decided it was time to start getting in shape. Sit ups, push ups, tai chi, pull ups, cardio exercises, anaerobic exercises. Just a little to start with to get his muscles used to it – the next few weeks were going to be hell for him as is since he now needed to get in shape. If he had to fight Voldemort here, and there was every indication that the dark tosser was still alive, he would need his strength to do him in when the time came. Maybe Neville didn't need the help, but it never hurt to be prepared.

What Harry had read in the history books amazed him. Voldemort, while still being a dark lord, wasn't as cold-blooded in this world as he'd been in the last. If that were still the case, then there was every chance that Harry could become far stronger than Voldemort. With that thought, he went to sleep after his workout.

**(((o)))**

"Harry?"

…groan

"Harry, are you all right?"

"…mrglzpsfx," said a voice.

"He's not responding like he normally does, headmaster. There's something definitely off with him."

Professor Albus Dumbledore, supreme wizard and all that rot kneeled down to look at his favorite student. He knew he wasn't supposed to have favorites, but in Harry's case he had made an exception. "How are you feeling Mr. Potter? You gave us all a scare when you did not return to school last night. Come, it is time to wake from the land of Morpheus."

Together, Ron and Hermione helped Harry into a sitting position near Ginny's grave. Harry had finally come around. "Who are you?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Harry, that's not funny. If you wanted to stay here all night, you should have let someone know. We've all been worried sick that you might have been attacked."

"Attacked? Why would anyone want to attack me? I want my mom and dad," Harry looked around frantically. "And where's my broom?" Harry got up and started looking for his broom.

Frowning, Albus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to get him to stop for a moment. "Harry, do you know who I am?"

Harry squinted and made out some rough outlines. "Sure I know you. You're Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. I read about you on the back of a Chocolate Frog card," he said while patting his pockets. "Has anyone seen my glasses? I can't find them."

Ron stared in horror at his headmaster. "Harry got his vision corrected last year. He doesn't need glasses."

"Ron, that correction was based partly on the belief that it would work," Hermione stated. "That being the case, if he doesn't think it will work then he needs his glasses. But what I'm more concerned with is that he said he wanted his parents. Harry? Your parents died, remember?"

"What? When did that happen? Oh, god. Does Uncle Sirius or Uncle Remus know?" Harry started hyperventilating as tears began rolling down his face. "Wait a minute, how do you know? Who are all you people?"

A frown firmly entrenched on his face, Albus asked, "Harry? How old are you?"

"I turn 11 next month, why?"

"Ron, why don't you help young Mr. Harry here search for his glasses while I discuss some things with Miss Granger."

"Righto."

"Your thoughts, Miss Granger?"

"He doesn't remember us. He thinks he's 11 again. He thinks his parents, Remus, and Sirius are all alive. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say he's got a case of Shell Shock. He's been so traumatized by what happened that he reverted back to just before he started Hogwarts. It's a coping mechanism."

"What are treatment options?"

"Headmaster, I am not a psychologist and can only give guesses here. It's possible that he may revert back to our Harry later today, and it's possible that he may never snap out of it. If you're concerned about him protecting himself, then I strongly suggest we get him to start school again this fall as a first year. He definitely needs an education."

"We may also want to change his name and appearance so no one recognizes him. I'd better alert Nicholas and Pernelle what is going on. They've always had a special place in their hearts for our Mr. Potter. Fawkes? Can you take this note to the Flamels? Thank you.

"While we're waiting for them, let us endeavor to get Mr. Potter calmed down and ready to travel. It appears that Mr. Weasley is not one to sooth a troubled child's fears."

"They're not dead! I don't believe you! They're not! I talked to them last night!"

As Hermione attempted to calm down a distraught Harry, Fawkes returned with two people in tow. "Your note was cryptic as ever, Albus, what do you need and how does it affect Harry?" Pernelle said.

"Mr. Potter has been injured but we are unsure if was someone attacking him, or if he had a mental breakdown. All we know is that he believes himself 10, turning 11 next month, and that he believes his parents, Sirius and Remus are all still alive."

"What?" Nicholas said. "A mental breakdown you say? He's too strong for that to happen to him. I'll take a look at him."

"Hello, Harry. My name is Pernelle and this is my husband, Nicholas. Do you remember us?"

"No. I want my mom and dad. Why won't you get them?" Harry's voice carried the strain he was showing.

"Shhhh, son," Pernelle comforted. "We're here to help you. The people that found you said that you might have been injured somehow. Why don't you sit right here while I run a few diagnostic spells, okay? This won't hurt you a bit, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Absolutely," she smiled. "You can pinch me if I'm lying. See, I've already started the first one and here comes the second. No pain, right?"

"No ma'am," Harry conceded warily.

"Hmmm, that's certainly unexpected," she said quietly while looking at a 3-dimensional image of Harry's body. Numbers and colors continually ran throughout the exam as she went from body part to body part.

"You're right. We need to get him back home," Nicholas said.

"What? What is it? Does he need to go to St. Mungos?" Hermione tried to make sense of the complicated diagnostic that Pernelle had created. It contained far more information than what she had read that healers usually worked with.

"No; no St. Mungos for him," Pernelle smiled at the young witch. It was good that Harry's former friends still wanted to look out for him. "Please don't worry any, Miss Granger, I am very capable of taking care of Harry."

"Look, people, all I want is my mom and dad," Harry pleaded to everyone there.

"_Stupefy_," Nicolas stunned Harry.

"Was that really necessary?" Albus asked his former colleague.

"Yes. I didn't want him to panic and hurt himself. We will take him home and begin treatment. We will inform you to our findings." With a simple gesture, Harry was floating in the air while Nicholas took his hand. "Pernelle, you ready?"

She grabbed his other hand and pulled out a pen. "Activate," she said loudly before the three of them disappeared.

"What now, headmaster? It's so tragic the way he thinks his parents are still alive," Hermione said.

"Now? We officially list Harry Potter as missing. Which, technically, is true. Our Harry is missing."

Many hours and many scans later, Harry was enervated back awake. He found himself lying on a comfortable couch with two people he'd only just met standing over him. He didn't know where his mom and dad were, but he could tell that these people weren't there to hurt him – their expressions were one of concern and hope.

"Hello, Harry. My name is Nicholas Flamel and this is my wife, Pernelle Flamel. Do you mind if we call you Harry?"

Harry nodded, not able to speak just yet. He did, however, move to a sitting position on the couch. Pernelle sat on the other end of the couch and Nicholas in a nearby chair.

"Harry, I know you want to talk to your mom and dad right now, but there are some things you need to first understand. I know these things will be hard to understand, but they are true. All the different scans we've taken of your magical core prove it."

"Harry, what my husband is trying to say is: do you believe in alternate realities?"

For the next several hours the Flamels hypothesized on what happened to bring a different person to this world and then gave Harry a crash course in what is was like to be Harry Potter in that dimension. It was difficult information to swallow. Losing your parents, siblings, uncles – everyone you'd ever grown up with was now gone. At age 11, he was on his own. True, he'd had spats with his folks, what kid didn't? But now? He didn't know what to do? Who was going to take care of him? Would he ever get a chance to eat his mother's partially-burned biscuits again?

It eventually took days for Harry to come to grips with what had happened. What had helped him believe their outlandish tale of an alternate reality was not when they took him home only to discover a burned out building. No, what had sealed the deal was when he looked at himself in the mirror. He was grown up. He knew something happened at puberty, but this was ridiculous.

It wasn't easy on the Flamels either. They hadn't been totally convinced at the beginning of what happened to Harry. Could it have been someone else under Polyjuice? They initially scanned the curse scar area. With Voldemort dead, the curse in the scar was no longer active, but the scar was still there. Their scan should have detected residual curse elements that created the scar. Only, they found nothing. It was as if he had simply cut his forehead one day and had a scar to prove it. As is, the scar almost appeared fresh.

But there was no getting around his magical core. It had changed from the scan example they'd made of Harry over the past year and a half. There were key elements still there and Harry would grow to be an above-average wizard should he put his mind to it. But there was no shadow signatures. That was when they realized that this Harry was physically the same as theirs, but magically different.

Yet, Harry was able to retrieve his wand and his necklace when he needed them. Nicholas had helped Harry design the wards in place on each so knew that this person was at least a Potter. A quick scan of the wand confirmed his was Holly & Phoenix.

"Harry?"

"Yes Mr. Flamel?"

"Pernelle and I have been talking and we want to see if something is okay with you. We know that you've been having problems working with your grown up body. Your sense of balance is totally off kilter, right?"

"Yes, sir," Harry acquiesced.

"We're not going back on our word to help get you back home, but you have to consider you may be here for some time. We have not made much progress in opening a portal to another reality."

"How much have you made then?" Harry asked quickly.

Pernelle bit her lip, looked at her husband who nodded, and said, "None. We are continuing to track time distortion theory to see if that brings about anything."

"In any event," Nicholas continued, "if it's okay with you, we'd like for you to become our ward until we can get you home, or until you turn your majority."

"But I'm already old enough," Harry smirked, wondering what he should spend his galleons on first.

"Uh, yes. That. Well, that brings us to an interesting quandary, Harry. We'd like for you to take a youth potion which Pernelle has modified to last seven years. If you take it, you won't look like you are now until you are 17 again. The benefit of this is that you will be back in a smaller body that you are accustomed to and that will age with you."

"This potion also contains a few of our characteristics that will merge with yours so you will not look like an 11-year-old version of Harry Potter. This will give you a chance at a new life. Your name would also be changed to Jimeson Evans," Pernelle added.

"If I became your ward, what would I call you?"

"How about Uncle Nick for me and Auntie Pernelle for my wife?" Nicholas smiled.

"But why do I need a new name?"

"Well, you still need an education and we're thinking of enrolling you in Hogwarts like you should have gone to. That way, you will get to play a hoax on the rest of school by agreeing to be our 'ward'. We know you like to pull pranks and this way, you get a chance to do it."

Harry began to grin, his mind whirling at the possibilities. "…and since I'm a founder's heir, I have total access to the school. Excellent! I'll do it!"

After Harry was dosed and physically changed to that of an 11-year-old boy that he actually was, Nicholas and Pernelle sent their ward to his room to clean up for dinner.

"Now that you've changed Jimmy's face and age, what are you going to do if Harry comes back?" Pernelle said to her husband.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I'm more concerned on finding out how he knew he was a founder's heir."

**(((o)))**

July at Godric's Hollow was fun and Harry loved every moment with his family. He had found a journal from that universe's Harry Potter and read throughout it to begin understanding his life. There were some interesting things he had not "seen" as he remembered that Harry Potter's life. He knew that if he was reading this journal, his counterpart must be reading his by now. Or would once he was able to open the wards on the trunk around on the necklace. Harry smirked, thinking that kid was in for it now. Nothing would obviously happen to him since he was of Potter blood, but he was going to have his hands full learning spell damage repair until he got the hang of wards down.

Nearing his one-month anniversary, after he was done training early in the morning, he decided to do something nice for his family. He decided to cook breakfast. It was still early when he got started in the kitchen. Working, he quickly got lost in thoughts of doing something like this on a consistent basis when he'd had his own family when he'd married his Ginny. For the past month he noticed he was thinking of her less and less. Smiling, he realized that he was building a set of good memories to put in the same area as having a girlfriend. Namely, that of interacting with his family.

Harry was a great cook thanks to the laziness of the Dursley's, but even with all the exposure he'd had around the stove, he hadn't varied the menu much. During those few brief times he expanded his culinary skills, he'd been rebuffed not to do it again. Those times usually resulted in him having to spend hours in his cupboard trying to heal or shake off the rough punches his uncle had thrown into his gullet.

Tight-lipped, he didn't notice when his mum and sister Shelia walked in on him. He simply concentrated on the pans and fryer. He'd learned early on that Shelia did the majority of the breakfast cooking with her mum pitching in when asked. Usually it was to keep an eye on something or get an object out of the fridge. Harry could tell a few times it was mainly busy work to keep his mum from helping make breakfast. He loved his mum – all the kids did, but her cooking skills… well, that was another story.

Lily and Shelia had come downstairs when they both smelled something that got their mouths watering. Lily got up thinking that Shelia must have gotten up early to make her family something extra special that day. Shelia got up thinking there must have been an intruder because there was no way that was her mum's cooking. She stopped by the kitchen door, next to her mum, seeing that it was Harry doing the cooking. Making a huge spread, and humming while doing it.

Something weird was going on. Had been since Harry returned from his outing that night, Shelia thought. Harry never hummed. _He never cooked before either, come to think of it._

Harry was thinking of an odd comment that Mrs. Weasley had once said to him: that he'd make the perfect husband one day as long as he could cook. Smirking at the thought, he turned around the start setting the table only to see it was already occupied. His eyes went big and he quickly stopped, trying to think of a quick cover for why he was up. He hadn't really gotten that far when the notion to make breakfast had taken him.

"Uh… er… um… good morning," he said weakly.

"Morning, dear," his mum replied. She pointed. "Nice apron. Don't I have one just like it?"

"Uh… er… um… this is yours." Harry smiled and removed it.

Lily stood up and broke into an infectious grin. "I'm kidding, Harry. Go ahead and wear it. It helps keep you clean."

Harry retied the apron over his blue jeans and white t-shirt as his sister spoke up. "Wow, big brother, I never knew you could cook." She eyed the food hungrily.

Harry stuttered, "Uhh... yeah I do... I mean, I've been practicing cooking spells while you guys haven't been in the kitchen. I wanted to do something special for you girls since you always have to put up with us lazy guys." Harry remembered what the old Harry had written in his journal months ago: that he'd wanted to cook a special meal but the cooking spells he'd been able to master only boiled water or put out grease fires. That last one had proven handy days later when "old" Harry had talked with his mum while she made her famous steak flambé.

Lily smiled and kissed Harry on the cheek, murmuring, "I'm so proud of you Harry."

Harry blushed while Sheila made a barfing comment. Harry didn't mind the jest; he took it as a compliment. He never had people like family commenting on his food before.

"Hey what's that smell? It smells great! Did we get a house-elf? Just kidding! So which of my girls created this feast?" James exclaimed while looking at the French-toast, eggs, sausage, biscuits, and pancakes when he entered the kitchen with Harry's other brother.

Lily giggled with her daughters when James kissed her.

"It wasn't me," Sheila immediately said.

"Nor me," Rose added coming in after her brothers.

"Sorry James, I wasn't the one cooking this time," Lily said smiling.

"I knew that," James said before shutting his mouth quickly and eyeing his ever-so-beautiful wife nervously.

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't like my cooking?" she intimidated.

"Of course I like it, my ever-so-beautiful wife," he smarmed.

"Then why don't you think I could have created this sumptuous feast?"

"Ah, but Lily you could have created it. Only it didn't have your flair, your style, your grace surrounding it."

"You're lying… but I love you anyway."

"That's right, Harry cooked it," Shelia said munching on some home made apple fritters.

"What? Harry...? You cooked it? Wow, when did you learn how to..."

"Wow!" Rose said, eyeing the spread. "This smells great."

"Is it poisoned?" Leon asked.

"No you moron, its great! Sorry mum, no offense but Harry's food tastes a lot better," Shelia said open-mouthed.

James knew that if he wanted to avoid sleeping on the couch tonight, he had better come to his wife's defense.

"What? No way, your mum has the best cooking there is." That said he reached out for a blueberry muffin. The other kids started dishing up whatever interested them and sampling the cuisine.

Harry watched them with interest. He was curious to see what they thought of his culinary skills. In short, everyone was shocked.

"Say, Harry... did you use a potion you used to make it taste this good?" Rose asked while munching.

"No kidding. This tastes like heaven," Shelia exclaimed, stuffing her face like a monster.

"Good!" Sylvia chirped.

"Yeah!" Little Lily giggled.

"Wow, Harry you're a great cook, but mum's French toast is better," Leon said amazed at his brother's cooking.

James was just speechless. His son Harry's cooking was awesome. He hated to admit it, but it was way better then his wife's. He just couldn't comment. Not if he wanted to avoid that damn couch. So he just continued eating.

Lily was speechless as well. She had started cooking ever since getting married. Her mother had stressed it many times that a happy marriage was made in the kitchen. Lily loved to cook, and knew she was very good in the kitchen but there was something extra special with Harry's breakfast, something that she hadn't achieved. He was a prodigy. That was it. A genius.

Or just plain lucky.

No, not lucky. She watched him move around in the kitchen. He moved with a fluid grace as if he had been doing it for more than just a few weeks. A savant? "Harry, this is wonderful! Would you like to cook breakfast for now on?" His mother said excitedly.

Harry blushed at the comment while he was feeding little Lily. "Honestly, it was just a one-time thing and..."

"One time thing my arse!" Shelia said annoyed that Harry didn't want to cook every morning. This was her chance to escape that drudgery!

"Shelia! Language! Harry your cooking is really, really good. Almost as good as mine… James, are you alright? Did you get something caught in your throat?"

"mrably… cough-cough, no, I'm good. You were saying? About Harry?"

"Oh, right. Harry, this is very good for a first try but I don't want you to think you owe it to us to make breakfast all the time."

Harry looked relieved. She wasn't mad at him for taking over her kitchen, and that was a plus in his book. "It's ok mom, I'll help you cook, but I won't cook all of it; I liked your cooking as well," Harry said.

Lily smiled and kissed Harry on the cheek.

"My sweet little boy. I'm sure the girls would go crazy when they find out you know how to cook." Lily smiled.

Harry blushed again.

_Ding_

"You still have something in the over, dear?" Lily asked while everyone was giving him hungry looks.

Harry nodded. "Chocolate chip biscuits. Little snacks for the little kids," Harry said casually while getting up to the table and heading to the oven.

"Biscuits? But we didn't have any batter!" Lily said in surprise.

"Didn't need it; I made these from scratch," Harry said not noticing his family awed looks.

Harry quickly pulled out a pan of chocolate-oozing biscuits. Off went the oven after making sure they were done and he let them cool a few minutes while everyone ate. When they were cool enough, he spatula'd them onto a plate and set it down between his family mob.

As one, they all reached forward to grab one, regardless of his warning of hot food.

Lily was simply astounded. He had made these from scratch. Even she had problems getting her cookies so good on the first try. Yes, he certainly took after her. A chef in the making.

"These are to die for!" Shelia said, buttering him up to take over the morning chores of making breakfast.

"Yeah, this is great," Rose added between chocolate-teeth.

"You poisoned these, didn't you?"

"Shut it, you," Leon's dad reproached with a grin. Leon grinned back.

"Well, Harry, as much as I appreciate this fine repast of yours," his father said, then turned deadly serious. "I need to talk to you about something. It's been coming on for some time and I wanted to let you know what we know, you know? Lily, if you would, please?"

Harry didn't know what to think. Did they know his secret? Were they going to toss him out? Send him to prison? Interrogate him?

His mother, stern looking now, went to a drawer and started pulling various items out. Thumb-screws, mace (the ball & chain variety), quills, sticky notes, until finally finding something. "Ah, here it is. Someone put their work on it," she said smartly, looking at her suddenly-innocent husband.

"This is for you, Harry," she said, handing him a blank envelope. As soon as he touched it, words began appearing. He opened it and pulled out his first ever family birthday card. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOSER – LEON was written in the upper left corner. Smiling, he read the rest of the comments from his family. They were typical of his family. Little Lily's was simply a scrawl that seemed to go all around the picture of a kitten surrounded by its family. He gulped down a sob that threatened to escape.

Harry looked around the room. "But my birthday isn't until tomorrow," he said to his mum.

His dad replied, "True, but what better way to surprise you than by giving you a party a day early. So as much as I appreciate you making breakfast today, don't think you need to do it only on your birthday, son. You have my permission to make me as many of these delicious biscuits whenever you want."

"Daddy's silly," little Lily said as only a 3-year old could.

"That he is, honey," her mum agreed. "That he is."

**(((o)))**

After breakfast, Harry got to enjoy something he always wanted to do. Watch from the table as someone else cleaned up. His sisters cleaned up the mess while Harry entertained Sylvia and Lily. His mum also sat at the table sipping some tea. Sirius and his family made their entrance, wishing Harry a happy birthday, giving him a card and then Sirius making himself scarce. Alex went in search for Leon while Eric and Amanda squealed like the kids they were and ran off with Lily and Sylvia, certain to cause much mischief and destruction. Amy smiled after her kids and sat down to a cup of tea that Lily produced for her.

"mmmm, this biscuit is good. You make it, Shelia?" Jasmine asked.

"Nope. Harry did. From scratch, too."

Miss Black looked at young Mr. Potter. "You made these? They are quite good. I'm surprised that you made sweets on your birthday."

"I didn't know we were celebrating today," Harry smiled, still reading the cards (for the 5th time).

"Well, Harry, I don't mind saying I'd appreciate it if you started cooking for us if today is any indicator of how you can do around a stove," Shelia said in another attempt to get him to take over making breakfast.

"I'll think about it," he promised.

"My, my," Jasmine said, sitting, "you can cook and you're modest about it. You certainly have been growing up recently, Harry."

"Well," Harry said uncomfortably, not knowing where this conversation was headed. Was she hitting on him? "I try."

"So, Harry, how long have you been practicing your cooking spells?" Amy asked.

"Well, I tried my first one when I was six. I read a book about how kids should show parents love by doing something special for them so I decided to practice cooking," Harry made a little lie. Only, it wasn't so little. He really had been cooking at age six. And this Harry had tried cooking spells at age six according to the journal he'd read. Only, he'd been really bad at it.

"More like he did it out of survival," Rose whispered to Shelia who nodded back.

"What?" Harry said.

"Nothing."

"You started learning how to cook on your own in order to do something special for your father and I? That's so sweet!" Lily gushed, getting up and hugging him fiercely. Small tears ran down her cheek.

"Oh Harry, my baby boy is growing up. And to think all this time, I thought you were just a troublemaker and a Quidditch addict like your father! Now you don't have to feel like you need to follow in your father's footsteps and be a whiz on a broom. You can follow in my footsteps and be an accomplished chef," she said through tears. "Amy? You're choking. Are you okay?"

"Tea. Wrong pipe. I'll be okay."

Harry gave his mum an awkward pat on the back and smiled brightly. He loved making his mum smile. It made him warm and a little weak-kneed.

**(((o)))**

Later that morning Harry was again in the Library. The rest of the family was outside playing around and flying on the family brooms, but ever since Harry had found out this reality's version of himself was pathetic at flying, he knew suddenly showing up and saying he was great – and then proving it – would lead to more questions than he wanted to deal with. So he kept himself grounded, at least in their presence. He still flew at night, or when it was just a couple of the younger kids where all he needed to do was float. He no longer had his own broom and was now using his Grandfather's old broom which was about as he expected his grandfather to be – old. And slow.

Harry closed the Hogwarts, A History book and thought about what he'd read. It was the second time through for him over the past month, but reading it clarified a few points in his head. One: the only significant change over the past decade had been who was TBWL, and two: the role Neville's parents took in politics was not something he would have approved his own parents doing, let alone a potential ally's.

He snapped out of his thoughts when someone sat next to him. It was Jasmine, Sirius' oldest, and twin of Alex. From what Harry had been able to gather reading the journal, the other Harry had been as dense as a box of rocks to not know that Jasmine was interested in him. Of course, since he was still a boy and not interested in girls, it was expected that he wouldn't have a clue. Elder Harry didn't even know what end was up when it came to dealings with girls until he started going out with Ginny.

All the other Harry had done over the past several years was to make fun of his sisters and Jasmine, and pull pranks on everyone from his family outwards. Harry thought this had been especially cruel on those that didn't have a means of knowing what was going on (i.e., Sylvia, Amanda, and Lily), or those that didn't know how to defend themselves (Shelia and Jasmine – Rose knew how to stand up for herself, big time).

"Hi, Harry. I just wanted to tell you that your biscuits were really good," she said shyly while looking at her feet.

"Thanks, Jasmine. You know, I found that I really enjoyed myself this morning. I may have to do it again, so you can _quit listening in, Shelia_!" A small "eep" sound came from around the corner as Harry heard feet making a hasty retreat.

"Sorry about that. She was really insistent."

"That's okay. I was planning on taking over breakfasts anyway. I can tell Shelia's not really into it. How about you? Do you cook?" Harry really had no intention of being a prat like he "used" to be.

She gave him a surprised smile. He was so unlike he used to be a month ago. Usually he acted cocky, but now was so different. She blushed at the thoughts running through her head. "Sorry, yes I like to cook, mum and grandma says it is traditional for woman to cook while men should work," Jasmine said shyly while looking into his eyes. He was a lot kinder to her then he had ever been. She liked it when Harry wasn't being a prat. He was just dashing.

"Tradition? Well in my opinion, I think these old timers are being unfair. It's not the Middle Ages anymore. I think men should cook too! Women are equal to men and we're not that different. We've got some different organs, but attitude wise we're the same. When I get older, I want a wife to be herself, not some maid who has to do my every bidding. We're equal, so we all deserve respect and..." He shut up when she hugged him firmly.

"Thank you."

"Huh...?" Harry said.

"Harry that was the most respected thing I had ever heard you say! You're really something Harry," Jasmine said smiling at Harry sweetly. She was definitely falling for him now. She may be young, but she definitely liked Harry. Her Harry. Not the old one. This new model was something else.

Harry scratched the back of his head while blushing.

"Yeah... well... err... uh huh," Harry stammered. She closed in on him.

"Harry?! Where are you?!" his mum yelled in the distance.

Whew. "In the library! Sorry, Jasmine, we'll have to continue this later. I'm sure my mum needs me for… something. Bye!" His body was too young for the signals his older mind was sending.

_When the hell was puberty going to hit anyway?!!_

**(((o)))**

Harry's birthday celebration seemed to go on all day. He was not pressed into service making lunch, and soon after it ended both families made their way to the Potter pool where they spent the next several hours playing, swimming, and sunning – well, as much sun as you could get in the British Isles. Harry had invited several neighborhood kids over but most had declined politely. Harry wasn't surprised: his alter ego had been a real jerk to most of the people in the town.

While swimming he got to see his parents wearing next to nothing. His father was still in pretty good shape with a flat stomach and an above average build in his chest and arms. He had heard that his father had been a Quidditch Player for a season before taking a serious injury and then going to Auror school. Rumor was that some teams sent him invitations to come to tryouts and end his retirement.

Sirius was near the same way with short hair and a clean face. He definitely looked different not having a beard. His mother, on the other hand, still looked like she was in good shape. Even after six kids, she had the shape to turn heads. After noticing his mother that way, he quickly looked somewhere else while turning bright red. Thank god no one saw. He definitely needed to think of something else, and fast. Unfortunately his gaze landed on "Aunt" Amy and his red face turned even redder. She was a babe as well.

Facing imminent mortification, he took in a lungful of air and went down for a dive, reaching the bottom of the pool and swimming for the other end. He made it about half way before coming up for air.

"Harry... have you been working out?" his mother asked looking at her oldest son.

Everyone stared. Of course the girls already noticed. The guys just realized it. No sense denying it now. "Yeah, I've been working out lately, trying to increase my pace for Quidditch," Harry said shortly.

"You're flying again, Harry? I thought that after last… month, you wouldn't continue flying. I thought you were afraid of heights," James said looking at his son. He wanted to see how Harry flew now.

"Yeah I'm flying grandpa's old broom. No I'm not afraid of heights anymore. I learned to not fear it while flying. Who knows, maybe I want to live up to your reputation in Quidditch, dad. I may just end up surprising you."

"Quidditch?" his mum replied. "But I thought you'd want to take after me and become a famous chef. Sirius? Why are you choking? You okay?"

James smiled. His son was so different these past several weeks. He had to admit, he liked his son's new personality. Except when he longer wanted to play pranks, but other then that, Harry was everything he wanted from a son. He just hoped Harry would become a powerful wizard in the near future and that he would be more interested in Quidditch like the rest of the family. He was so much like Lily it was scary.

How amazed his father would be if he knew how powerful Harry already was.

Magic was an interesting thing. You could weigh it, tape it, measure it, smell it, bottle it, see it, and in some cases, talk with it. Magic was also an intangible thing that couldn't be sensed when it didn't want to be. The magical community had long ago come up with means to measure a wizard or witch's worth. This was done at an early age to better prepare them for life. Truthfully, when Harry had heard about this practice (which happened at childbirth), he felt it was more of a way to weed out squibs than anything else.

Harry's original score on the magical aptitude test (MAT) listed him as an average wizard. This was before Voldemort came a' calling and infused some of his magical core with Harry's, start-jumping a magical core expansion that still showed no signs of slowing down. Around Harry's original 16th birthday, he came into his shadow abilities. He later started training with Nicholas and Pernelle Flamel to better understand these abilities. They ran another MAT test and found his score off the charts. And it was still rising. He had thought that the shadow abilities were the upper edge of what he would be able to do. Apparently that wouldn't be the case.

Harry recalled his "uncle's" words when they had found out that his magical core was still expanding. Magic was change. It was that simple. Change. You are taking one thing and turning it into something else. And Harry was going to be able to do that in a very big way. Only, Harry needed to better understand his powers – and hide them from prying eyes such as the Unspeakables or Albus Dumbledore who would surely want to sway them to their own causes, or worse yet, attempt to remove it entirely as he could be construed a threat. To hide and train, allowing his core to mature to the size it wanted to be, Nicholas brought out a power suppressor. Unlike most suppressors that required keyword activation and used the recipient's own core to block the power, this one didn't really block his power so much as it hid it by transmuting his "power requests" from _massive_ to _manageable_. Excess power was absorbed into the suppressor. This allowed Harry to grow into the power without anyone else knowing how strong he really was. And best yet, once he decided the suppressor had to go, he could release it at any time with a mental shrug.

The only problem was that the suppressor he'd gotten from Nicholas at 16 had been created approximately 10 centuries prior and its construction process had not been passed down. That meant that the two suppressors he had were all there were. At one time there had been three but the third had been lost somehow. Probably due to a Norman invasion but there was no way to tell. They were the Low, Mid, and High Suppressors by Archivius Mannulius. The smaller model Harry shorted out within months. Nicholas allowed him to use the Blue (Mid) model to help control his abilities. That worked and for a long time he felt normal, power-wise.

Only… now it was no longer working like he wanted. His jump to this new dimension had spurted his core again and he could feel it growing. He could see it working as well. He'd only been there a month and while he had started an exercise program shortly after arriving, he was already starting to show muscle definition which shouldn't have happened for another few months. He was small now and until he hit his growth spurt, having washboard abs on an 11-year old was going to look a little weird. As is, every time the suppressor had hit its limit back in his old world, Harry had needed to find a little secluded area and blow off some magical steam (i.e., energy). Harry usually liked to find a place near a volcano or typhoon where his magic could go unchecked and undetected. And that magical "bloating" feeling was starting to come on him again. He needed to release some pressure soon.

Harry didn't think he would be able to hide his Occulmency shields when push came to shove, and that would probably be in September when the headmaster or Snape decided to do the pushing or shoving. He countered this by leaving a Mind Magics book on his nightstand for several weeks. He knew it would normally take years for someone to learn it and be considered a master, but the theory behind it was easy enough to follow. At least, it had been for him the first time he read it – well _after_ his attempts with Snape.

Shrugging off those thoughts, Harry went back to an enjoyable afternoon swimming.

**(((o)))**

Later that afternoon, Harry received an owl from Hogwarts just before it was time for cake. It was his official invitation to Hogwarts. He faked jumping for joy and told his parents. They were happy and smiling. Harry could tell it was strained. They didn't want Harry to leave home; they were all starting to like this new Harry (and his cooking).

**(((o)))**

Later that night, Harry was reading in bed when his mum stopped by. "Harry..." Lily said, gently closing the book and sitting on the bed.

"Yes mum?" Harry smiled.

"Harry, honey... I wanted you to know that I'm going to miss you," she said softly while hugging him.

Harry held onto that embrace. "I'm going to miss you too mum."

"I know you will, but promise me you'll stay out of trouble?" she asked.

"Of course, I'm not a troublemaker," Harry said simply.

Lily grinned and tweaked his nose softly. "You used to be," she answered back with a smile.

They were both quiet for a few minutes until Harry broke it.

"Mum?"

"Yes dear?"

"Promise me... that you'll always love me and will never forget me," Harry said in a serious voice that made her look at him in shock.

"Harry... w-what?" she stuttered. She was confused. Why was Harry talking like he was about to leave on a suicide mission?

"It's just, when I come home, I want to be with you mum. Always. With dad, Leon, Shelia, Rose, Sylvia, and little Lily. I hate going to a place where I'll be alone," Harry said quietly. Honestly he was afraid that one day he might have to return back to his world.

_So that's why_, Lily thought. "Harry..." she whispered, but Harry hushed her by snuggling up closer and humming an almost silent tune. She enjoyed this moment with her son and stroked his hair. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Before going to the land of slumber, she heard him say quietly, "I love you mum."

She smiled at her loving son. He was so strange. He was silent nowadays, and would read instead of playing pranks like he use to. He was very caring and very protective over the family now. She would watch him while he played with Little Lily and Sylvia. Little Lily had looked up to him before as he was her older brother, but now she simply adored him. She liked him more than James and anybody else besides her. The way he acted, he seemed older and wiser. She was amused at the thought of Harry having children of his own one day. She smiled at him and held him close while falling asleep next to him.

Harry on the other hand, was happy. He was happy that he would now have a good family. The past month had made him the happiest he had ever been and he loved every moment with them.

**End of Chapter 1: School's Over… Sorta**

**A/N: Enjoying the show so far? Then please R/R! Remember: gushes of praise can lead to cameo appearances. So can flames, but only if I like them. Or want to make fun of you. Bwah-hah-hah-hah-hah!**


	3. Chapter 2: Summer's End

**Disclaimer****: Not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Bummer that.**

**The reviews I've gotten have certainly been a mix of those liking this retelling of a story and those not liking what I've done. Therefore, I need to set a few things straight. **

**Plagiarism is the taking of someone else's work and distributing it as your own effort. In that case, have I taken SilverAegis' work and blatantly ripped it off and said it is my own? I don't feel I have done that as I have acknowledged that he is the creator of this tale, and that I am adding an ending. I would have preferred to do this with his blessing, but all attempts to contact him over the past two years have proved fruitless. I believe that an author should finish their work and if not, then that abandoned story is fair game to anyone else wanting to complete it.**

**In this regard, SilverAegis wrote 12 chapters of a story called Harry Potter and the New Life. It chronicled Harry going to another world and his "re-education" years going through the summer holiday just before his 2nd year. I am re-telling this story, using some of his settings and scenes as I thought they added quite a bit to the story. True, I've corrected the bad grammar (for the most part – and shame on me for not catching a few stray words here and there), but the longer this story goes, the more my writing supersedes that of SilverAegis. I am working on increasing the pace of this story so that by the end of chapter 6 will finish out the remainder of SilverAegis' written work. At least until we hit year four (and I'm not telling anyone what happens there yet – suffice to say that another of SilverAegis' unfinished tales get entangled within this web of Hogwarts years).**

**I have about 30 chapters in mind, with the last 10 or so completely new and not referencing SilverAegis' work at all. I decided to rewrite his story as I thought there was some good imagery he created that I hated to see lost, or incomplete. But I do understand that the thought of plagiarism still rankles to the minds of some readers.**

**I hope you readers allow this story to continue and I look forward to reading more reviews. Even the nasty ones which I intend to eventually work their way into the storyline. **

**Update: After the initial two chapters of this story went out, SilverAegis dropped me a review and gave me permission to take his story and update it as I see fit. Not all of his ideas and settings will make it to this story, but some will and you (the reader) will probably see these if you've read his story. If you haven't read his story, then all of this will be new to you. Thought I better put this here in this chapter seeing as how I wrote the bit above.**

Chapter 2: Summer's End 

August started with Harry waking up early in the morning like he normally did. He got up, worked out, showered, and then went downstairs to begin his new task of making breakfast. Today's menu was going to consist of omelets. Since he didn't know everyone's preferences, he decided to simply create them as needed and that required a lot of pre-work chopping ingredients.

He thought about last night. He knew he'd fallen asleep against his mother, but she must have gotten up shortly after he started snoring and tucked him in. It was a weird having someone care for him, he thought. Ginny was as close as it had come and they'd never spent the entire night before. She'd certainly never tucked him in. Thinking of Ginny nearly caused him to nick his finger with a knife, so Harry concentrated on cutting the tomatoes and not of his ex-girl. As callous as that sounded in his head, he really didn't want to stop in order to bandage his fingers. His heart ached for her, but his mind was finally starting to get past the longing he had for her.

Of course, it helped greatly that he finally had something he'd always wanted: a family that loved him.

While working, he thought about the day's forthcoming activities. Dad was staying home to watch the rest of the kids while his mum was taking him to Diagon Alley to get his supplies for school. He had originally asked to go alone, but that idea had thoroughly been trashed by both parents. Being told "no" by both adults had led to Harry doing something he'd never done before – he pouted. His mum laughed at his expression, telling him he looked adorable with those sad, puppy-dog like eyes. Harry had flushed red and immediately stopped, much to his mother's continued amusement.

So now it was just him and his mother going. Dad had wanted to go as well, but someone needed to watch the kids. Remus, being the nanny of two households, had insisted years ago that he was not going to watch both households at once unless it was an emergency. Even a werewolf can be pushed so far, and watching James and Sirius' wallcrawlers was more than enough work for anyone. So his dad had the job of watching his kids today. Usually Lily kept an eye on them during the morning and then after afternoon naps, Remus came over while Lily made dinner. Remus rarely stayed for dinner, usually excusing himself to watch over Sirius and Amy's children instead. Or going out for a meal.

As is, Harry was surprised that his mum trusted his dad so thoroughly to watch the kids without supervision. The past month had been an eye opener for Harry. He had noticed many things that the other Harry had simply overlooked, or hadn't even bothered to notice. The first and foremost was that his father let the kids get away with anything short of burning the house down. It seemed that he and Sirius were on the same shift at work and while Harry supposed they were good enough at their job to warrant lead roles, they were hopeless with kids seeing as they were hardly older than that themselves. Remus was the parent to most kids and they respected him. Well, as much respect as any kid had for an adult. Let's just say that when the idea to de-pants the Marauders came up, Remus wasn't selected for inclusion in that prank. The rest of the day both other adult males in this little duo-family wore kilts. And short kilts at that. Heh, heh, heh, teach them to try and pull a fast one on Harry.

Harry started cooking fried potatoes while humming a song that Ginny had taught him. It was a lullaby that Mrs. Weasley sung to Ginny when she was a little girl. Harry liked that song and knew that one day he'd have to find the words that went with it. Maybe one day when he talked with Mrs. Weasley. Whenever that was. If events happened like they should, he would definitely be seeing her and Ginny on September 1st at the train station. It didn't do his heart much good to dwell on it now – in time he would be back with her. And this time he was going to ask Ginny out whenever he could. Whether it be going to a ball, or into Hogsmeade, or just to the library. He was going to beat Michael Corner who had dated Ginny in her 4th year.

Ginny had once told him that Michael enjoyed dating girls, usually at the same time. Unlike Parvati, who dated many boys; she at least had the good manners to break up between dates. Or to inform date #1 that she was also seeing date #2 later on. Michael liked to withhold that information and when Ginny had found him hitting on Cho Chang one day, just about beat him senseless. Or was going to but instead exacted her revenge by shrinking a delicate part of his anatomy for a month.

Ginny had lied to Ron when she told him about Dean; she'd only said it was him to get a rise out of her hot-headed brother. By the end of his 6th year, Harry had gone out on a few dates with Ginny. Ginny was taking it a little slow as she didn't want to get hurt again and Harry had taken it slow as he didn't know anything about dating. Harry did know that Mrs. Weasley was very happy that he was dating her daughter.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts when his mum kissed him on the cheek. "Morning, honey," she said, moving to make herself some coffee.

"Morning. What kind of omelet do you want?"

She looked at her oldest child and smiled. "Surprise me," she finally offered.

"The Bertie's Every Flavor kind of surprise, or something you might enjoy more?" Harry countered.

"Your call. But keep in mind who does your laundry, young man."

"Remus?"

"Oh, ha, ha, mister. Believe me, the last thing you want is him washing all your clothes like he used to. For years you only wore pink because he decided to keep washing everything together."

"Good surprise coming up," Harry smiled. He then got busy whipping up a Denver omelet.

Harry didn't mind the mess he was making. Shelia had finally cornered him yesterday and pleaded with him to take over making breakfast for the family. He had acquiesced but only after getting her (and Rose) to agree to cleaning up. And now he was making sure his sisters didn't get off easy. He loved his sisters and knew they loved him, but siblings would still be siblings, and getting one up on a sibling was tradition.

This would get them partially back for the stunt they pulled a couple weeks ago. They had played truth or dare, and together they dared him to dress up like a girl. He had agreed to it after making sure that makeup, polish, and undergarments weren't part of the deal. It really wasn't that big of a deal to him and it made them happy, so he was agreeable to doing it. Plus, they'd already conned little Lily into helping them select the clothes and she wanted to see him all dressed up in a dress.

The problem had come when he'd put the dress on and found he couldn't take it off. Sirius and his dad suddenly showed up saying that Harry would have made a gorgeous girl and then Sirius waved his wand and next thing Harry knew he had a rack. His dad made his hair longer and transfigured his shoes into high heels. Now those hurt. Then his dad and Sirius made an excuse that they'd left some work at the office and promptly vanished. And try as he might, he couldn't get the spell undone until Remus came by later that afternoon.

Actually, Harry could have dispelled the charms at any time with his wandless ability, but held off on tipping his parents as to how powerful he actually was. However, once the girls had started looking for him with a camera in hand, he vanished into some shadows and appeared on the other side of the house. He kept that game of chase up for several hours until the girls gave up. Harry didn't mind joking around, but having his picture taken in that getup… he shivered at the thought.

"Hey, what's that smell?" Shelia asked as she and Rose came into the kitchen.

"Breakfast; what else?"

"So, Harry, what's on the menu today?" Rose said, looking at all the dishes she and her sister were going to have to wash later.

"Cake," he replied simply.

"Cake?" Shelia asked in confusion.

"Cake?" his mum raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Cake. It's got eggs in it. Nothing but nutritious I always say."

"Harry…" his mum started but stopped when she saw the curve of his lips. "Very funny, young man. He's just pulling your legs, girls. C'mon, have a seat. Harry will have your gruel up in just a few minutes."

"Gruel?" Rose asked in horror.

"Well, an omelet for me, but good old fashioned gruel for his favorite sisters. Harry, did you get the dirty spoons for Rose and Shelia like I asked?"

"Mum!" Shelia said in annoyance.

"Good one, mum," Rose sat next to her mother. Lily ruffled her daughter's hair and smiled down at them. Harry was chuckling at the scene of his mum getting one over on his sisters. It was little things like that that Harry missed growing up and never experiencing.

"Harry," his mother interrupted his thoughts again.

"Yes mum?" Harry put a fresh omelet (with garnishes even) in front of her.

"After breakfast, which if your father doesn't get down for soon he's going to miss out on, we need to get going. The earlier we leave the better. This is delicious, Harry. My, you may be a late bloomer in the kitchen but you certainly got my knack for cooking if I do say so myself. Rose? Are you well? You're choking."

Harry had to admit that his mother was like a mixture of Hermione and Ginny. She was smart, strict, kind, loving, fun, outgoing, and everything else he had desired for a mother. She loved to read and routinely complimented him when she noticed he was doing the same. Which apparently he was doing more of than his earlier counterpart. She enjoyed the sport of Quidditch, but never played it herself. Most everyone else in the family loved to play, the exception being little Lily, and surprisingly "former" Harry.

Harry had finally gotten through the emotions of the past few months of his former self and found out what had been the catalyst to bring him here. Interestingly enough, it had revolved around Quidditch. Earlier-Harry had just finished 5th grade but wasn't sure what to expect. He'd never been that magically adept. The more that Harry thought about it, the then-Harry sounded more like the Neville he knew. He thought himself practically a squib. He couldn't even manage to stay on a broom for any length of time before falling or his nerves getting the better of him.

Then the letter from Hogwarts came. It wasn't an official letter, but more of a promise of a letter. Truthfully, Harry suspected his parents had asked the Minerva to send it so Harry could enjoy the summer vs. agonizing if he would be accepted or not. So the letter had come. Earlier-Harry, in a convoluted twist of logic, thought the best way to win the approval of his parents would be to become a better all-around student. He started reading that day, and that night decided to try mastering a broom and be like his dad. The broom had gotten away from him and by the time he'd gotten it back under control (as it were), he was spiraling down towards a tombstone in the graveyard. So something had to have happened at that time to cause the two Harry's to switch. At least, Harry hoped they switched. If not, then the momentum that earlier-Harry had picked up on the broom could have been fatal if no treatment was available.

Harry hadn't really strayed from where the earlier-Harry had wanted to go. The significant difference was obviously in age, knowledge (or foreknowledge in his case), and power. The other Harry had low self esteem. Harry knew he didn't have that problem as the magical suppressor continued to remind him. Just last night he'd had to shadow travel to the Hawaiian Islands and let loose some discharge alongside some lava eruptions.

The other-Harry had enjoyed playing pranks. More like, _really_ enjoyed playing them. He was almost as bad as the Weasley twins when it came to pranks. In that one sole regard, he was better at that craft than Harry, who was able to come up with a good one only every now and then. God, Harry wished his other self a good life in case they never reversed dimensions.

"How do you like your gruel, Rose?" Harry said, dishing up something more palatable for Shelia.

"Swell. It tastes like eggs, only with some odd herbs."

"It's called cilantro."

"I didn't know we had cilantro," Lily said.

"We didn't. I had to get some from in town. I special ordered it."

"You knew you were going to start making breakfasts then? And you made me beg you to do it?" Shelia accused.

Harry smirked. "What can I say? I'm devious that way."

"Ah, I don't mind. This is still pretty good."

"Harry, how did you pay for these? I don't recall you getting your allowance for the past month."

"Uh, I had them charge it to our account."

"Oh. Okay. Really, honey, if you need some money, just ask. Now once you're done eating, let's get cleaned up and going to Diagon Alley."

"But what are dad and Leon going to eat?" said Rose.

"Seeing as how they can't be bothered to come down and eat with the rest of us – oh, good morning Sylvia, Lily – then they can do with some cereal."

"Or gruel," suggested Rose.

"Or gruel," her mum agreed.

**(((o)))**

Harry found that he loved hanging out with his mother. Some would say he was a mama's boy, and he'd probably be the first to agree with that statement, but he enjoyed her company. It startled him to think that she was related to Petunia Dursley, Mrs. Cold herself. The only emotion his aunt had ever shown him in the 15 years he'd lived with them was contempt or loathing. To have a parent figure actually show something like concern, or like enjoyment was a big step forward.

Harry knew that he should have told his parents, his mother especially about his shadow abilities. But that lingering thought of him being rejected kept him from telling them. He had rationalized it by coming to the conclusion that there was simply no way he could go to his parents and say, Hi, I don't want to alarm you but I'm a lot more powerful than anyone else in this world, including Neville Longbottom who survived a killing curse. You know why, because I did the same. Oh, and I'm a Shadow Mage to boot. So what's for dinner?

Not only would they not believe him, but would consider him a braggart which was something he never aspired to be even in his own dimension, Snape's accusations notwithstanding. Harry knew he'd have to tell his family of his abilities sooner than later, but became selfish in his desire to have a family. If they were going to ostracize him once they found out who he actually was, then he wanted to get as many good family memories to take with him. They may not want him once they find out about his past, but he wanted them – even if it was only in memories.

So Harry decided he would tell them about his abilities when the time was right. In the meantime, he'd begin a program of slowly expanding on his abilities. He'd already started that by voraciously reading every book he could get. No one saw him with the same book in his hands two days in a row. Some of the books he'd read during the past month had been refreshers and he'd breezed through them, remembering their content from years past. Others had been refreshingly new. Such as the history books that he'd never read during any of his years at Hogwarts. After all, a boy's got to sleep during one of his classes doesn't he? Of course, he probably shouldn't have slept through all of Binn's classes, but still…

Project "Coming into My Powers Slowly" (as Harry dubbed it) also served to allow him to watch for Death Eater activity while avoiding Voldemort's attention. Let him concentrate on Neville Longbottom instead of Harry Potter. The less people that knew about his abilities the better. Like Moody said: 'Constant Vigilance.' When people found out how powerful he was, it would turn ugly soon enough.

The day promised to be hot, and Harry was glad they'd started out early as the Alley was sure to get crowded later on with more school kids and regular shoppers. He had a lot of fun with his mother. They went clothes shopping for robes, and not just for Harry. His mother tried on a few and modeled them, asking his opinion if he liked what she had on. "Mum, you look beautiful in anything you wear," Harry said. She rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek and a hug for that.

Hours later, loaded down with clothes, books, potion supplies, and everything else this author is too lazy to write down (besides, lists are boring), Harry and his mother stopped for some pre-lunch ice cream while doing some people watching. Halfway through eating his Rocky Road, Harry saw someone he recognized.

He saw Neville Longbottom walking with his parents who both looked young and healthy. Not permanently zoned out and emaciated.

"Mum, isn't that the Longbottoms?" Harry said, pointing to the advancing family.

Lily pulled the spoon of Spumoni away from her mouth and looked towards the family that was nearly on them. Scowling, she replied, "Yes, that's them." Alice walked up to them as Frank and Neville looked at a window display a few meters distant.

"Lily, what a surprise to see you here," Alice said neutrally. "I take it this is your son, Herman?"

"It's Harry," Lily replied coldly.

"Hmmm, yes, sorry for the confusion but James so rarely talks about his son that no one at the office knew if he was magical… or a squib. You can understand my surprise at seeing him here carrying Hogwarts supplies."

Harry stayed quiet to see how his mother wanted to play this out. But he wasn't going to stay quiet long.

"My son is going to be a fine wizard. Strong and powerful even. He's already started his coursework. I take it Neville is going to browbeat someone else into doing his for him as he's too lazy to do anything else?" Lily smirked.

Alice frowned. "Neville is a powerful pure blood wizard and needs to concentrate on other subjects than just what is on the Hogwarts curriculum. He'll be an asset to the Auror corps in due time."

"And what time would that be in – 50 or 60 years?" Lily bit back.

Alice's eyes narrowed but before saying anything else, Neville and Frank walked up.

"Mother, I'd like some ice cream. Two scoops of the Longbottom brand, please. Ah, Mrs. Potter, nice to meet you. My father was just telling me you were speaking with my mother. And you must be Horace, right?"

"It's Harry," Harry replied dryly.

"You sure? You look like a Horace to me. I think I had a horse once named Horace. That's what reminded me of you."

Harry looked on at the veiled insult. "Well, at least you didn't compare me to a donkey, so I guess I should be grateful, Mr. Longbottom."

"Did I say you reminded me of my horse? I mean my mule," Neville hastily amended.

"Oooooohhh, so close to the insult. You've got to learn not to backtrack. It lacks conviction. You should really think them out a little beforehand so you don't sound like a loser when you copy what someone just said. Like me. Mum, you want to go? I think the air is becoming a little… tainted here."

"Of course, dear. Alice, you're welcome to the table," Lily said, leaving the dishes and used napkins behind.

"You can't say that to me. Do you have any idea who I am?!" Neville practically shouted. Eyes from other patrons turned their direction.

"Yeah," Harry responded, picking up his packages. "You're a loser. See ya, _loser_."

Well away from the ice cream shoppe, Lily hugged her son. "Well, no one can accuse you of being slow on your toes, honey," she said. "That was some fast thinking. I know I shouldn't say this, but I loved your insult. I know as your mother I shouldn't be encouraging this behavior, but I nearly bust a gut when you said he was a loser. You don't know how long I've wanted to say those exact words."

"Then why didn't you?" Harry replied, genuinely curious. He hadn't known his mother to back off anything in the month he'd come to know her.

"It's a little complicated. Suffice to say your father technically works as a subordinate to Frank Longbottom and if I'd said anything it would have meant repercussions to him. But you saying it doesn't have the same bark as if I'd said it. You understand?"

"Sure. But let's face it, mum, he was a stuck-up kid. Spoiled too."

"Yes, and unfortunately you'll probably see more people like that. At least, those raised solely in the wizarding world. That's why your father and I decided to raise you where we did. It our ancestral house but still surrounded by muggles. Anyway, so that was your first meeting with the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Mum, it looked like you and Mrs. Longbottom knew each other. Did you know them… before the event?" Harry said delicately.

His mother stopped and looked at her son. Nodding, she said, "Yes, we knew them. Were friends with them in fact years ago. The Longbottoms worked with your father and I worked in the Department of Mysteries at the ministry. Then, October 31, 1981 happened and their son was marked for destiny. Since then, they've become difficult to work with. Their heads have certainly gotten bigger.

"They act like they run the ministry. Their son does this, or does that. When it was discovered that their son survived the Killing Curse, Frank was promoted to Captain of Magical Law Enforcement over many other qualified individuals. They'd actually sacked Mad-Eye Moody to make way for him. It was a political appointment through and through and Frank let it go to his head. He and your father had started out at the same rank and it took your father years to make Captain, and that's only because no one else wants the weekend shift. To this day, Frank still treats everyone under him as well as those of equal rank as underclass.

"Alice used to be sweet but she changed as well. She left the Aurors to raise her son but soon accepted a position as Special Representative to the Minister."

"Another political move?" Harry said.

"You got it. And it went to her head as well. To think we used to be friends to them, and now they act as if they were the Malfoy's. I swear, they are so..." Lily trailed off slightly angry while mumbling angry phrases.

"But that's neither here nor there, son. Come on, let's get you a wand," she brightened up.

Harry smiled, got a better grip on his things, and together they made their way to Ollivander's. She looked down at her son. He was certainly growing up. Harry smiled at her. For some reason, out of the entire family, he was closest with her nowadays. Prior to his accident a month ago he hadn't been close to anyone, preferring to do things by himself. Now, he was always nearby.

As they entered the shoppe, Harry sensed the old man in the corner under an invisibility spell. Harry and his mother walked around the store looking at things but not touching any wands. The moment Ollivander decided to turn visible, Harry turned on him with a dagger in his hand ready to strike.

The dagger Harry had found in the attic weeks before. It wasn't enchanted, drat the luck, but it did have the Potter embalm on the hilt. It wasn't much compared to his old stash of weapons he used to carry on his body, but it had been a start.

The man gave a surprise look. So did Lily. Her surprised look immediately went to disapproval and shock and then outrage as he was holding a dagger, a _weapon_! That just wouldn't do!

"Harry James Potter! Where did you get that knife?!" she said angrily, hands on her hips.

"M-Mum... it's for protection. And it's not a knife, it's a dagger," Harry said trying to soothe his mother while Ollivander watched them with amusement.

His mother wasn't having any of it. "A dagger or a knife; they are both the same," she huffed.

"Actually they're not," Ollivander admitted. "One is for cutting, and the other is for stabbing."

She gave him an icy stare. "_You're not helping_," she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry immediately felt the old man trying to probe his mind, so he immediately increased his mental barriers to full power. He'd suspected Ollivander of being an Occlumencer (how else did he know so much about someone when they entered his shoppe?), perhaps as strong as Dumbledore or Snape, so knew he'd have to be careful around the old man.

Ollivander showed no surprised; even though he was inwardly shocked. From what he could tell, Lily didn't know Occlumency, and she didn't know her son knew either. "Hello Mrs. Potter. Ten inches Willow with Unicorn hair correct?" Ollivander said still eyeing Harry with a delightful look. Harry didn't trust that look, so he stayed quiet.

"Yes that's correct Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes. Let's get down to business shall we? Mr. Potter, which arm is your wand hand?" Ollivander asked.

Harry smiled and answered. "I'm ambidextrous. I can write with both hands, will that help?" Harry ignored his mother's gasp.

"Harry, you can write with both hands? You never told us!"

Harry nodded and gave her a warm smile to calm her down. "It never came up actually. I just thought it was silly that I only ate with my right hand years ago so I started using my left. And it just went from there to doing writing." It wasn't necessarily a lie; he just started learning how to use both hands when he was taught how to duel with right and left-handed by Nicholas Flamel and his wife. It was true that he started eating with his left hand, and started writing with it shortly thereafter.

"Yes... that's interesting," Ollivander said while the tape measures were working furiously, flying over both arms.

Soon enough he was trying out wands. For some reason, it felt forever, Ollivander was getting excited. Oh, how he wanted to just get his Holly and Phoenix feather wand. That would end this sure enough.

After an hour of trying out wand after wand, Harry'd had enough and said, "Mr. Ollivander?"

"Yes?"

"I know I don't know anything about wand crafting, but the other night I'd had a dream about a Phoenix. Do you think that might be a sign? Like I should have a wand made with something from a phoenix?"

Ollivander stopped his rummaging and rubbed his chin. "You might have something there, Mr. Potter. It's never best to ignore dreams. Phoenix, you say? Odd."

"What's odd?" Harry replied.

"I'm not sure if I have another phoenix wand in stock. Just this morning I sold a Holly and Phoenix wand to Neville Longbottom. Interestingly enough, it was a brother wand to the one that gave him his scar on his cheek. Well, it's certain that I don't have anything up here. Let me check my stock in the back. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Don't feel too bad, honey," Lily Potter said to her son, fearing that he was indeed saddled with so little magical power that he might be a squib. At least he could be a chef like her if this didn't pan out. Still… why would he have gotten a letter from Hogwarts if he were a squib?

Inwardly, Harry was in a state of panic. His wand, his Holly and Phoenix wand was no longer his! It was being used by the stuck-up brat Longbottom! Oh, why didn't he get to bring his wands with him when he came to this world. "I'm not feeling bad, mum," he finally said. "I'll get a wand. You'll see."

Minutes later Ollivander returned carrying an ornate box with many runes etched into its sides. Gently he placed it down on a counter and pulled his own wand out to start opening the wards surrounding the box. A flash of light lit the store, quickly followed by four more flashes of lights in varying colors.

The ward opening process done, Ollivander opened the lid to the wooden box, more like an ornate chest. Inside were three wands resting on black velvet. "Mr. Potter," he started, "every wand we've tried has not accepted you. I am certain that if I were to continue with the rest of the wands here you would have the same results. However, one of these three wands may be the solution to your situation. I must warn you, they belonged to others now long since turned to dust. These important wizards and witch from the past were known to be legendary in their exploits. Before touching any of them, simply pass your hand over each one and tell me what you feel."

Harry placed his hand several centimeters over the first wand and said, "I feel fat, bloated, my nose is running, I have a cold…"

"Stop. That one is not for you. Please go to the next one."

Harry did so. "I feel dirty. My skin is chalky. There is a horrible taste in my mouth. Did I just do a chimney sweep job? I feel supercalifragiliciousextrafalidoucious…"

"Stop. That one is definitely not for you. Going to have to find a girl for that one for sure. Please try the next one."

The last wand was decorated with gold and silver trimmings etched into one side of the wand. The other side was smooth but the wood looked like it kept changing colors from deep dark brown to bright vibrant red and back again.

Harry moved his hand over it. "I feel… I feel… oh, yes!" Harry quickly grabbed the wand and as soon as he touched it, caressed it; black and silver sparks began shooting out as Harry's eyes turned color. Not just his iris changed, but the entirety of his eyes went from white/green/black to just solid black all the way through.

Harry was grinning from ear to ear. He hadn't felt this good even with his old wand. And that one had felt great! But this one was like having an extension of his body put back on.

Lily immediately clapped and cheered for her son. Then she saw his eyes and looked on in amazement as they slowly returned to their original state.

"Well that was impressive," Ollivander said carefully, closing the warded chest now one wand lighter.

"What was impressive?" Harry asked, still unable to take his eyes away from the sheer joy he felt from holding the wand. His wand now. It was so captivating. Mesmerizing. The power he felt was incredible. Oh crap, he thought, my suppressor! It was nearing overload. Harry hastily began calming down.

"You probably don't know as most will not," Mr. Ollivander began. "But that wand once belonged to the Wizard King Azerothigan."

"Never heard of him," Harry said honestly.

Lily gasped. "Wizard king?" She looked at the wand her son held, her eyes growing even wider. "That wand belonged to the last wizard king? Oh, Harry." She was nearly jumping for joy at the sight of her son who she thought only minutes before was next to powerless had instead been confirmed as one of the most powerful people on the planet.

"So who was he?" Harry quickly said before his mother began to smother him with hugs and kisses. He may have liked those in private, but in public he wasn't all that comfortable with it yet.

"Short version or long version?" Mr. Ollivander asked politely.

"Short. It's almost lunch time," Harry said like a typical teenager who usually thought with his stomach.

"Short it is. I'll let you do any further research on your own. The Wizard King Azerothigan was one of the most powerful wizards this world has ever seen even to this day. It was rumored he was a Shadow Mage although there is not much written down on his abilities. The only reason it is even mentioned is that his inner court saw him use what they deemed Shadow Mage abilities. He fought all his life against dark wizards and witches until dying from something there is still no cure for."

"What'd he die from?" Harry questioned, his curiosity piqued.

"Old age. Supposedly when he was about 200 years old his frail form was lying on a deathbed when he fell into a shadow never to return. His wands were the only remainder of him actually living.

"When wizards and witches freely walked the world millennia ago, he was its first ruler. He was supposedly strict and harsh but gentle and fair. He lived nearly 3,400 years ago and for a brief two centuries, the wizarding world knew true peace as he was its primary protector. He had a total set of five wands. Four of them were attuned to a season and have been… misplaced is the best term. It is possible he used them to bend the seasons to his will such as making Summer longer or less hot. His last wand, the one in your hands, was seen on him his entire life. What you hold is 12 inches of Firewood, core of Phoenix flame," Mr. Ollivander said in an eerily serious voice.

Harry nodded in awe. So Azerothigan was a Shadow Mage like him?

"Mr. Potter, the Wizard King Azerothigan did great things for Europe, Asia, and Africa, I expect great things coming from you as well. Great things..." Ollivander trailed off muttering.

Lily looked speechless. Tears were nearing leakage level.

So much for Project "Coming into My Powers Slowly", Harry told himself. Still, this gave him an excuse to start using his power faster. And possibly blow off some steam. Yes, he could make this work to his advantage. Harry looked at his mother and his grin faded to a shocked look. If only she knew what he'd already accomplished…

"Now since that is a special wand made by my father 3,400 years ago... I'll say... "

"Wait a minute... 3400 years ago! How old was your father? And how old are _you_?" Harry blurted out.

Mr. Ollivander smiled a sly grin and replied, "Mr. Potter, my age shall remain a secret. Much like yourself." His creepy grin made Lily shiver.

Harry shook his head in annoyance.

"For one of the special wands, 200 galleons," Ollivander said calmly.

Lily exclaimed, "Two hundred galleons! I bought mine for seven!"

"Mum, it's alright. I'll pay for it," Harry said patting his pockets for his luggage.

"Uh-huh, mister. Pay for it with what?"

Not finding what he wanted since it was in another reality, Harry gave a goofy grin to his mother and looked at Ollivander. "Would you accept trade?"

"What do you have to offer, Mr. Potter?"

"What do you need?"

"Stop, both of you. Harry, you don't need a summer job right now, and you won't be able to make enough money to pay for this wand before school starts. Don't worry about it. We'll manage. We're not destitute. Mr. Ollivander, please excuse my outburst. The figure you presented caught me off guard but it is acceptable. It is an antique after all."

Lily paid for the wand and the two left the shoppe for the Leaky Cauldron. Ollivander stared at their retreating backs.

"Hmm... I should tell Albus about the Azerothigan's wand... hmm... no... no, he just needs to know about Voldemort's brother wand that the Longbottom boy bought," Ollivander muttered to himself. One thing was for certain: that Potter boy was quite an interesting fellow. He knew more than he let on. He was an Occlumencer and was able to sense him when he entered the shop, and now the boy carried one of the greatest wizarding wands in existence, stronger then You-Know-Who's wand and his brother wand. Interesting indeed...

As getting the wand had been the last thing on the agenda, the two quickly floo'd home. Once there, Harry quickly made his way to his room to put his purchases away. He grinned thinking back to when his mother had taken him to the bookstore. They'd spent several hours there and he'd been pleasantly surprised when she allowed him to get as many books as he wanted. Of course, she hadn't expected him to buy a small library of his own, but she said her son's education was important. Then she ruffled his hair when he blushed, grinning like a person who had just won the lottery.

Harry had just spent the day with his mother on, of all things, a shopping trip. He was on cloud 9. It was boring at times, frustrating having to try on different clothes, tedious for his feet, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything. He was still in a state of bliss when he started putting his clothes away.

It was a pity that he hadn't locked his door when he started using his wandless ability to put the clothes in the closet and dresser.

"Harry!" his mother cried, several books under her arm.

The clothes instantly fell to the floor as Harry whipped around, a startled look on his face.

"Uh… yeah, mum?"

"Was that wandless magic you were performing?" she asked in disbelief.

Harry really hated the idea of lying to his mother. Perhaps if he'd grown up in an environment with loving parents that routinely smothered their children in love in kindness he'd have built up the necessary moral fiber to lie to them without blinking an eye if only to get away from all those massive hugs and kisses (especially from any strange "aunties"). But he didn't so when he finally got parents, the last thing he wanted to do was deceive them in any way. He'd already been doing it out of necessity for the past month but now… now was a time when he could come clean with his mum.

At least, a little bit.

"Uh… yes, mum. It was. I've been practicing. Didn't you wonder about how all the packages we bought were shrunk?"

"Harry, moving some clothes around wandlessly, while difficult for most wizards, is nothing compared to shrinking items. Even Albus Dumbledore has trouble doing wandless spells."

"Mum," Harry started. Then stopped. They looked at each other for a moment and then Harry waved his hand, middle finger snapping against his forefinger. The clothes all lifted from the floor and resumed their march to the closet. Harry didn't even bother watching it happen. He instead watched his mother. She was totally gobsmacked (or whatever it was that smacked gobs).

Twenty seconds later the clothes were all away. He looked at his mother again. She had a dreamy smile on her face. Harry then went over to the bags and snapped the fingers on his other hand. Instantly, the bags shrank from large sacks to just over hand-sized paper bags. He handed them to his mum.

"I told you. I know some spells I can do wandlessly."

"Wha… when… how… why…?"

"I've been practicing for some time now. I don't want to just make a good impression at school, I want to _excel_. I learned a few spells from the library. I didn't always just play pranks or practice cooking when I was younger."

Lily stared proudly at her son. "Oh, Harry, you constantly amaze me. I always thought you were a joker but you keep proving me wrong these days. Your father is going to be so proud. A wandless user in the family. We should tell Albus as well; both he and James will be so impressed." She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Mum. I want to tell them on my own ok? I'm still working out some difficulties."

Slightly frowning, she said, "It's your choice, honey. I'm not going to force you into it."

"Once I get a few more spells down, then I have a wicked prank I want to play on Dad and Uncle Sirius. They'll never know what hit them."

"Ah. That. Okay, honey. I won't say anything. Just don't keep it a secret from your father too long, okay?"

"Thanks, mum."

"Oh, I almost forgot. You need a trunk for school. How would you like the one I used when I went to Hogwarts?"

"Sounds great!" Harry beamed.

"It's a little old, but should still be serviceable. It's in the attic so you may have to search for it."

"Are you sure dad's going to let me use it? He won't have any problems with me using that one instead of his will he?"

His mother had a faraway look in her eyes as she looked out the window at her other children playing in the yard. "I rather doubt he will have a problem. I haven't seen his trunk in years. I think that's where he keeps all his pranking material. So if you happen to ever see it and were to tell me, well… let's say there's a chocolate biscuit in it for you."

"Are you bribing me?"

"Is it working?"

"Not at just one biscuit it's not."

"True, that is a little cheap of me, isn't it? How about we just call it a special treat of your choice and leave it at that."

Harry smiled.

She walked around the clean room and marveled at the changes in her son yet again. Clean? His room? Since when? She then noticed some very familiar reading material on his nightstand.

"You haven't been reading all my old basic spell books have you?" she asked slyly.

Harry nodded. "I'm up to 3rd and 4th year material."

She smiled wider. "You act so much like me, it's amazing," she hugged him.

Harry smiled at her warmly again while hugging her back. He could never get tired of her smile or her hugs. The hugs in private that is.

"Yes I know. I may look like dad, but I act so much like you or so dad said the other day," Harry replied.

She nodded.

After a few minutes of organizing his books and things, Harry spoke up. "Mum... what was I like when I was a baby?"

She giggled. "You were a cheerful baby, an adorable one. You were mommy's little boy." She giggled again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh jeez, do I want to hear more of this?" Harry said while sitting next to her.

She began to think; she smiled for a second and then smiled wider.

"Like I said, you were a cheerful baby, and an adorable one too. You were also quite smart for a baby. Every time you were hungry you rubbed your belly and when you were thirsty you would smack your lips. You didn't cry much. You were a quiet baby, unlike your brothers and sisters," Lily said smiling widely while lost in thought.

"You're not pulling my leg are you mum?" Harry asked.

"Would your mum lie to you?" she asked smiling warmly.

"She would if she were trying to pull one over on me," he joked.

"Do you think I'm doing it now?" she said seriously.

"Err... sorry mum. No not really," Harry said truthfully. "But I do think you were lying about eating vegetables making you fly faster on a broom!" Harry grinned at his mother's shocked features, remembering what she had told Sylvia a few days ago.

"Good come back, mister." She laughed. She knew what he was talking about. "Harry, sweetie, how else am I supposed to get your little sister to eat? She wasn't like you when you were a baby who ate anything."

"Hey!"

She giggled while Harry smiled.

**(((o)))**

A couple days later, the Potter's had a picnic. For Harry, it was great. Initially his family was apprehensive before eating a sandwich but Harry assured them he'd made it. They then chomped down with gusto. After eating and drinking, and laughing at his dad's prank of turning into an animal to startle the kids (and nudge them with his antlers), Harry stayed to play with little Lily while the rest of his siblings went swimming in the lake behind their mansion. His youngest sister was such a cheerful baby; she rarely cried and for the most part was a good girl that didn't seem spoiled. She did get into trouble, but then most 3-year olds got into trouble when it came to flushing a roll of toilet paper down the head.

"Hey Lily, you want to go on piggy back?" Harry asked his little sister.

"What's that?" she asked, more sounding like: "What's dat?"

"You act like a princess and I'll carry you around on my back to wherever you want to go. Provided I don't get tired."

"Yeth, please," she grinned, standing and holding her arms out to be picked up.

Harry obliged and kneeled down, allowing her to get on his back before grabbing her arms and jumping up. She squealed in delight. Harry then proceeded to trot down to the flower garden by the side of the house. It was a shame his mother didn't think Lily was old enough to fly on a broom or he'd have taken her flying. Not the reckless Oliver-inspired get the snitch or die trying type of flying, but a more leisurely float a few feet above the ground.

Harry thought back to the Dursley household for some odd reason. He remembered when he was eight years old and one summer weekend they had shuffled him out the house Saturday morning with a list of chores to do. Of all things they'd given him a sack lunch and told him to get a drink out of the hose on the house. He was not to come in all day. It was only a blistering hot day, muggy as anything with a storm slated for that night according to the local news. Vernon and Petunia were hosting some friends over and apparently thought it better to get him out of the way the entire day vs. have him underfoot and others asking why some strange kid was locked in the cupboard.

By early afternoon he'd finished all chores save the last one: weeding the garden. He'd intentionally saved it for last as he could make it last the rest of the afternoon if he wanted. Normally it would have only taken him an hour or less to complete the task, but then Aunt Petunia would have only found more for him to do. So he intentionally took a long time on it. It was while working outside that several kids (younger than him even) came out to see what he was doing. They'd been told he was just the son of a vagrant looking for work and had been given a job to earn a few pounds.

Harry was so moved by the utter lack of references that Vernon always speckled his way to any listener (freak being the most common) that he decided to do something nice for the kids. He made them each a wristband and a crown made of flower petals. It was not an easy thing to do and required quite a bit of concentration to make sure he didn't rip the petals while spiraling them together.

The kids, ages 5 and 6, loved it. They ran back into the house and showed their parents who also loved it. Vernon made noise of having to give that useless vagrant's son a bonus for good work. Later, Aunt Petunia was upset that he'd vandalized several of her flowers in making those things. Harry wasn't allowed back in the house until Monday morning. He'd had to spend the ensuing thunderstorm huddled in the utility shed out back.

At least it was roomier than his cupboard. If only slightly more crowded with tools, mowers, and spiders.

Harry never made another flower crown or wristband again. Until now. He made one for each of Lily's wrists and a larger crown for her head. It was made of rose and pansy flower petals. A columbine flower adorned the apex of the crown. Harry made a great show of presenting a crown to "Princess Lily."

Lily giggled and said in her childlike voice, "What about mommy?"

Harry smiled and got to work on another crown for Queen Mum. "One crown for mum coming up!"

Lily clapped and then handed him some petals. "Me help," Lily insisted.

"Yes you did, Lily. You're a good helper."

Lily giggled some more and tried making a bracelet. It came out as a good effort for a first try but until Harry used some subtle wandless magic to make sure it wouldn't fall apart, no one would be wearing it. He had to admit, though, that for a little girl she sure learned fast. She was able to concentrate when she wanted to.

Harry's crown was made out of white, red and pink roses. Lily had made a bracelet of purple, pink and blue pansies. They ran all the way back to their parents to give their gifts to their mum, Lily giggling all the way especially since she beat her big brother in the foot race.

When they got both got back, everyone else had returned from swimming and were eating again. Harry watched Leon put away a turkey sandwich. Geez... the Potter's were worse than the Weasley's. Harry never thought it was possible.

Lily gave the bracelet and crown to her mother, who absolutely adored it.

"Oh Lily! Harry! They're beautiful. How did you two know how to make these?" Lily said while Harry's sisters were giving their mum jealous looks. They had to admit, those flowers looked good on their mother. Lily Sr. gave both her children a kiss on the forehead and admired her new "jewelry."

Little Lily giggled and pointed at Harry. "Big brother Harry showed me!" She showed off her spiral wristbands and crown to her sisters.

"Wow, I always wanted to know how to do that correctly but could never get the hang of it!" Shelia said eyeing her little sister's flower accessories with jealous eyes.

"Me too," Rose joined in. "If only someone could show us how to do it." She was trying to hint it (strongly one might say) to Harry she wanted a pair, but Harry was as clueless like every other male.

Leon rolled his eyes. He'd rather play Quidditch then play with flowers; sometimes his older brother act so girly – it was enough to drive him spare.

"Harry, where did you learn how to do this?" Lily asked.

His sisters sat up paying attention except for Little Lily who was playing with her spiral flower wristband.

"I read about it one day in school years ago. Then I just visualized how to do it and there you go," Harry said not having to lie at all since that's exactly what he did back at the Dursley house so many years ago. It hadn't been that hard, mostly time consuming and required a calm hand.

"It's so beautiful. Say bro, show us!" Shelia demanded, going for the straight approach. Rose nodded her head in agreement. Harry shrugged, smiled, and then got up, motioning them to follow. Little Lily stayed behind to talk with her mother as Rose, Shelia, and Sylvia raced to see what flowers they wanted to use.

James thought hard after they'd departed. Harry had certainly changed a lot these past few weeks. He'd grown, and as much as he had to admit it to himself, he'd matured. He shrugged. He knew one day Harry would have more responsibilities not only as the oldest Potter child, but also due to the fact he was the heir of the Potter name. He just didn't think those responsibilities would start so soon. After all, when your children began to act responsibly, it was a sign you were getting old. He hated getting older.

He still had so many pranks he wanted to do.

**(((o)))**

The weeks at the Potter House passed surprisingly fast. Harry found out things were slightly different in this world. When he entered his family vault, he of course saw several magical artifacts that he had never seen before. Of course when he returned home, he tried researching, discreetly, his family items still in the vault. No luck. His mum really didn't know what was all in the vault and his father didn't want to go into detail for some reason.

He kept muttering something about responsibility and pranks. His dad was so odd at times.

**(((o)))**

A couple weeks before it was time to go to Hogwarts, a pajama-clad Harry sat in his room looking out at the stars. He was so grateful to have a family now. But there was still something missing in his life. His girl. Ginny. He'd held off simply flooing over to the Burrow as there had been no way he could explain his reason for being there. And there was no way he was going to announce he wanted to see his future wife. Should he survive the brothers coming after him, he would then be sent to St. Mungos for a psych evaluation.

He'd also held off shadowing over there as it held a certain kind of… stalking quality he really didn't want to associate with his powers. But here he was thinking of his fiancée again. He needed to know if she was the same person. If she and he were meant for one another. He needed to see her, and stalking quality be damned, he decided to shadow on over to her room.

Harry caught a ride from a passing shadow and almost instantly clung to a wall that a candle was near, flickering light and shadow in Ginny's bedroom. Harry noticed it was the same as he remembered: bed, dresser, closet, desk, quilt, rug, Ginny and Ron arguing. Yep. It was the same.

"Ron, give that back!" Ginny demanded.

Ron was holding a diary above his head, keeping it out of his sister's reach. "Oh, what's the harm in me reading just a little bit of it, Gin-Gin? After all it can't say much more than 'Oooohhh, I had another dream about Neville-the-boy-who-lived-Longbottom and we lived in a great big house.' I mean, how many times have you had that dream anyway? Just this month alone? Hah!"

"Ron, you prat! Give it back!"

"I'll just add my own entry before I give it back. How's that?"

"Mum! Ron's being a git again!"

"Ronald!"

"Fine. Here, take it back. Go ahead and write in it how you're going to become Mrs. Neville Longbottom again when you grow up."

"So what's wrong with that? At least I have a plan unlike you. What are you going to do when you get to Hogwarts? Be Neville's sidekick?"

Ron left her room, a thoughtful expression on an otherwise scowling face.

She closed _and_ locked her door and then sat down at the desk. Opening the diary she grabbed a quill and began to write. Harry moved his shadow to better read her entry. 

_Ron was being a jerk again. That hasn't changed. Maybe he's trying to be more of a jerk now since he knows he can't be one to me again until Christmas once he goes off to Hogwarts. I just don't understand boys like him. Why can't they be more like Neville Longbottom? He's so kind and polite. Ron did bring up an interesting point, though. He said I should become Mrs. Neville Longbottom. That doesn't have such a bad ring to it that's for sure. A summer wedding after I graduate would be best. Now that I think about it, in a few more weeks we'll be going to the train station to see Pompous, Terror Twins, and the Jerk off so maybe I'll find him there. I can't wait to see him again. And who knows, maybe this time I'll bring him something for the long train ride._

Harry had seen enough and shadowed back to his room. He sat on his bed and looked out at the night sky. Ginny was infatuated with the boy-who-lived. That sounded normal. Currently that boy was Neville Longbottom. That was normal for here. She wanted to marry him. Okay, now that wasn't normal.

She was supposed to marry Harry. All right, so he was in a different dimension. There were only minimal changes so far. He'd get her back. She was still a kid after all. Once she got to know Neville, she'd come to the realization that he was a jerk that needed to be avoided. Yeah, that's it. All he'd have to do is wait until the time came to be there for her when she realized that he was a jerk and then he was golden.

Starting to feel the drift of sleep, he told himself he'd adopt a wait and see approach for the time being before going after his old girlfriend. She was young. There was time.

Right?

**(((o)))**

The day to go to Hogwarts came faster than Harry expected and soon enough it was time to leave. Harry and his family were all at the Platform 9 3/4. All his sisters were crying while his younger brother Leon gave him a pat on the back.

"Say Harry, um, you don't mind if I stay in your room sometimes do you?" Leon asked.

"Sorry squirt, I locked my room magically. You'll need to ask mum or dad to unlock it for you," Harry said smiling at his younger brother.

Harry had indeed locked his room. He'd wandlessly done it while his mother looked on approvingly and his father stood by with a total stunned expression. Harry made sure to show it took a lot of concentration and power to do that little feat (even though it didn't and could have done it with a snap of his fingers if he so chose) so his parents wouldn't think he was too powerful too quickly. He'd already gotten some sort of strange speech from his dad regarding responsibility and didn't need another one to go along with using power wisely and for the greater good and all that crap.

Several days earlier he'd finally gotten around to telling his dad about his wand and a little about his wandless ability. He made him promise like his mother to not tell anyone yet. Not even Dumbledore until Harry felt he was ready. And especially not the kids as they'd want to do the same thing as he did and that would lead to trouble for everyone if little Lily was able to summon PB&J sandwiches from wherever. "Next thing you'd know, we'd be knee-deep in magical reversal squads and obliviators trying to keep pace with all the 'accidental magic' discharges out here," Harry reasoned.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his mother started to cry onto his shoulder. Again. She was laughing while tears were rolling down her cheek.

"It's ok mum, I'll be fine." Harry said trying to calm the hysterical red-head mother.

When she released him, Sirius' children ran up and hugged him goodbye as well. After all of them said their goodbyes, Jasmine ran up and gave Harry a small quick kiss on the cheek leaving everyone in both families to stare at the youngsters. When she let go, she was blushing furious, and ran off to hide behind her mother.

Harry was just dumbfounded. He was just staring in front of him in shock. He snapped out of it when Sylvia came up and hugged him goodbye.

Everyone was laughing at Harry's still dumb expression and the blushing Jasmine.

However, poor little Lily was crying hysterically.

"Harry... (hic) big... (sob) big brother... you... (hic) don't like... us no more... (sob) so that's why... (sob) you go?" She cried another fresh about of tears.

Harry laughed silently at his little sister's tears. He kissed her on the cheek when she hugged him as fiercely as her small arms could. "There... there... I'm not leaving forever; I'll be coming back. Not for a while, but I'll be back in time for Christmas. You'll be a good girl, okay Lily?" Harry asked.

She cried harder and spoke in broken sobs.

"I... (hic) pwomise... I'll be... (sob) a good... girl... I pwomise... so please... (hic) don't leave me." She cried out another fresh bout of tears.

Harry gave his parents a look that said help.

His mum immediately tried to stop her poor daughter, but she couldn't do much because she was crying as well.

"M-My baby b-boy (sob) is all grown up and (hic) going to H-Hogwarts, it feels like it was just y-yesterday when I (hic) changed his n-nappies." She then burst into another bout of tears while hugging her baby daughter Lily who was crying along with her.

His father rolled his eyes and pulled both of them back.

"Take care son, and make sure you learn extra hard in class. Take extra notes or something like that," his father said. Although his original thoughts were: 'Don't forget to play pranks on your teachers in class! And especially on Snape. Greasy git. Go get him, tiger! Hey, is this thing on? Hello? Echo, echo, echo. And now in as the third chaser on your Quidditch team, James POTTER! Potter – Potter – potter…'

When Harry turned around to leave, he waved goodbye. "Bye, everyone! I'll miss you!"

The Potters and Blacks all waved to him as he climbed aboard. His sisters were holding back tears as he left. "Rose?"

"Yes, Shelia?"

"You know who has to take over making breakfast now?"

"No one really. I've asked mum to let me go shopping with her later today and I'm stocking up on cereal. Don't worry, I'll work on mum to get some in order to leave her more time to make lunch."

"Then won't we have lunch to worry about?"

"You maybe. I'm planning on eating a school lunch, as awful as I've heard they are. Bye, Harry! Have fun!"

Harry climbed aboard and started searching for an empty compartment. While making his way from one car to another, he saw some people that caused his heart to skip a beat. The Weasleys… He didn't even glance at the majority of them really; he was staring at one very special person. Ginny. She was looking very shy and was crying seeing her brothers go. Harry smiled at the thought; he remembered her crying a reality ago and chasing after the train when it was leaving.

Harry then overheard her ask about seeing the Neville Longbottom before he got on the train.

He didn't see it when she turned to look his way when he was lost in some deep thoughts. He remembered he wasn't the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived anymore. Sighing sadly he moved his way down to the next car.

He would still wait for her. If she was still the same person that is.

Ginny was crying and laughing goodbye. Her four brothers were leaving for Hogwarts. She was going to be alone for a year at the Burrow. She looked at the train cars and soon saw a young boy around Ron's age with messy black hair and bright piercing green eyes go from one car to another. He was deep in thought and while looking her way, was not actually looking at her she thought.

But… for some reason, she had a weird connection feeling like she knew him from somewhere. Slowly she gave her attention back to her brothers. She had this feeling that she was going to meet him again one day. He sure did have dreamy green eyes.

But something would have to be done with that hair, that's for sure. Hadn't he ever heard of a brush or a comb?

Now where's Neville Longbottom…? Ah. "Hello, Neville. You're looking well today."

Neville dropped his trunk with a loud thunk and approached Ginny Weasley. Sigh. This came with the fame, he knew, but he needed to keep up certain appearances. Especially in public. "Why, hello there, Ginny. Thank you. I'm looking forward to going to Hogwarts," he said, kissing the back of her hand.

"You certainly are a charmer, Mr. Longbottom," Mrs. Weasley said to the boy holding her little girl's hand.

"How could I not be to a special girl like you have, Mrs. Weasley?"

"You're sweet, Neville. Here. I brought you something for the long train ride. You do like brownies, right?"

"Absolutely adore them," Neville beamed as he saw some members of the press looking around the platform for a photo opportunity. They noticed him and cameras started to focus.

Harry had a good look at the entire byplay with Longbottom and the Weasleys. What the _hell_ had just happened? Eyes wide, he slumped down in the seat, his trunk still in the middle of the compartment, blocking anyone else from coming in. He watched out the window for a little longer as both Ginny and the stuck-up kid, wait… no, he was right – the stuck-up kid seemed to have a conversation. A civil conversation. Neville was smiling as was Ginny.

What the hell was going on? Neville was just a few steps away from being a goon! Surely his Ginny would know that and see that. After all, his Ginny…

That was when it hit him. His Ginny. Tears began to well up, jockeying for position to be the first one out and down his face.

That wasn't his Ginny. His Ginny was gone. Six and a half months ago she was taken from him. Sure he now had a new old family, but she was part of his old new family. The family business was starting to confuse him so he simply shuffled them all into a family category.

It didn't help. His Ginny was gone. He was in a different dimension. He had parents and siblings here. Ginny Weasley was alive here. But she wasn't the same Ginny Weasley he'd known. Right now she was acting so smitten she could have kittens (or whatever was the bloody magical equivalent Harry rationalized).

This Ginny was different.

It was as simple as that. She was different. It was a different dimension. His Ginny was gone.

The train lurched and slowly began to build steam as it headed out of the station.

For over an hour Harry just sat there with a stunned expression on his face, the occasional tear streaming down is face. He remembered the good times he had with the Weasleys and how it had brought him closer to Ginny. He remembered her bad poetry a few months before… Voldemort's demise. He remembered her laugh.

But more than anything, he remembered the girl who saw him and knew she wanted him.

And that girl was gone.

It would not be right to force this new Ginny into assuming that role of his late fiancée. She was gone and he needed to accept that.

Tears ran freely down his face and had been doing so for more than a half hour. He hadn't cried like that in months, not since the night he'd had to bury his love.

He'd wanted to take up with his Ginny right where he'd left off. But this new Ginny was not the same.

This Ginny was different. It was as simple as that.

A part of him grew angry. He wanted to lash out at anything. At her. Was it possible that the youngest Weasley was nothing more than a deluded, amorist-using, infantile, immature, snotty, hotheaded little fangirl? (1)

No. That wasn't it. At least, not entirely. That wasn't fair to her either. He didn't even know her. And that was the problem. He needed to let his Ginny go and not put all his hopes on this new Ginny. If something were to happen in the future, then so be it, but the way she was gushing at Longbottom that seemed like a distant supposition.

It was time. Standing, he watched the countryside whiz past through the window. His right hand over his heart, his left holding onto the slightly swaying railcar, he lowered his head onto the window, looked out and said, "Goodbye, my heart. My love. I will see you again when the time comes for me to end my stay here on Earth. Until then, know that I loved you with all my heart. But now I must move on."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but he did anyway. It was time to move on. He'd had to tell himself that if only to set it in motion. It was time to move on. Ginny would have wanted him to do it.

After a proper mourning period, of course, he smirked at the thought. Mourning was over. It was time to move on.

For several more hours he sat there in comfortable silence. The clackity-clack of the train going over the rails almost lulled him to sleep. He would have gone had his door not suddenly opened.

**(((o)))**

**End of Chapter 2: Summer's End**

**A/N: Please R/R!**

(1) And thank you, PSTIBBONS, for making it into the content of this chapter. Hope you recognized the wording.

And there you folks have it. Thought I was going to use Ginny like SilverAegis did, didn't you? Nope. Hadn't even planned on it. But I needed to work through what he had started. Who will Harry join up with then? Wait and see, wait and see. You may be surprised. I know I will… er, I have a plan, really I do. Heh-heh-heh.


	4. Chapter 3: The Obligatory Sorting Sor

**Disclaimer****: Not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling.**

**Wow. That was a lot of reviews. Thanks, everyone for the encouraging words. And I hope I am making this chapter even more divergent than what SilverAegis created.**

**I may have to insert more chapters than what I originally thought as this one was intended to be a lot longer but I don't want you to have to wait months for it to be complete.**

**Sorry for the delay but the last few weeks have been a little odd for me as I first sprained my right ankle and then later fell and bruised my left knee. So even making the little trip from my living room to my computer was a bit of an ordeal and I didn't do it as often as I wanted.**

**Chapter 3: The Obligatory Sorting… Sorta – Fall Term Year 01**

_For several more hours he sat there in comfortable silence. The clackity-clack of the train going over the rails almost lulled him to sleep. He would have gone had his door not suddenly opened._

**(((o)))**

"Uh, excuse me?" a girl's voice said.

Harry's head snapped to where he'd heard a familiar voice. "Yes?" he returned.

"Do you mind if I come in here for a few minutes?" Harry could see she'd been crying.

"Sure," he replied, finally remembering his manners and moving his large trunk out of the way so she could come in. It was Hermione.

Emotions shot through his head, his heart, his stomach, but fortunately bypassed his spleen. While she made herself comfortable on the seat across from him, he came to grips that this was an entirely different Hermione than what he'd left. He hadn't really ever wanted to throw his friendship with his old friend away but the mean things she had said during the time she and Ron had thought he was going dark as the inside of a filled oil drum had hurt him deeply. But this Hermione was a clean slate. She didn't have any preconceived prejudices.

"Hello. Are you ok?" Harry asked quietly while giving her a smile.

"I'm fine," she sniffed, her head tilting down as she didn't want him to see the tears welling up in her eyes. It didn't matter. He still saw.

Harry's mouth thinned and he vocally conjured a tissue for his friend. _When did she become my friend again?_ he asked mentally. _Now, I guess,_ he answered himself.

"Here, wipe your tears. Pretty girls like you shouldn't cry," he said, giving her an encouraging smile.

Hermione's head had come up when Harry had conjured the tissue anyway and now she looked on in awe as she wiped the near-tears from her eyes. Sniff "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome," Harry soothed.

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked, dabbing the last of the leakage out of the corner of her eyes.

"Do what?" Harry said smiling.

"Make this tissue," she replied, holding up the now obviously used white ball of paper.

Over the past few months Harry had plenty of time to figure out his next move. Obviously if he announced to the world who he was, his new parents would press for the return of their original son (if he were still alive that is – and Harry hoped that he was), and they would probably not get rid of him. But they would look at him differently and that was something he was hoping he could delay a little longer at least. Eventually he'd have to tell them the truth. He owed them that much.

Still, he needed to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He couldn't sit at home and say he didn't need school like Leon. He had to go if only to keep up the charade. Besides, as long as he was honest with himself, he found himself looking forward to going to school and learning things he didn't get a chance to the first time around. That being said, he knew that going to school would probably mean he'd display knowledge now and again that was advance of what they were learning on any given subject. Therefore he decided to advance his reading (which he'd started with in August), and also put on a public show now and again indicating that he was a smart wizard, one not to be trifled with. Unless someone had a truffle, since those were tasty. Especially chocolate truffles, but that's beside the point.

He wasn't going to show anyone, no matter who they were, ALL of his powers, but he was going to let on that he knew more than the average student of his age. He could even start… now.

"Oh, well it's conjuring. It's a type of transfiguration."

"I thought I read it was more related to Charms?" she replied, wiping her face dry.

_Damn alternate dimension differences!_

"You say potato, I say pot-tah-to."

She smiled in return. "I've read about all the subjects in school. I thought Transfiguration and Charms sounded the most interesting." My, this boy certainly was actually nice to her. That was nice in and of itself for a change.

"They're certainly more interesting than history or Herbology, but each to their own I always say," Harry partially joked.

"Do you always say that?" Hermione grinned back.

"I do now. Hey, I don't mean to pry, but can you tell me why you are crying? No one was making fun of you, were they? If so, I'll go teach them a lesson not to mess with pretty girls."

"Oh, I wouldn't want you to get in a fight. That's not proper."

"What fight? I'd just inform them of the error of their ways is all," he replied kindly, not bothering to tell her that informing people could entail words as well as a couple well-placed blows to a face or gut.

She giggled and gave him a smile. It was rare for her to see someone being so nice and friendly to her, unlike some guys she met on the train earlier. "Yes, someone was calling me names I think, but it's okay, you don't have to teach them a lesson," she said seriously.

Harry smiled. He immediately cast an advance transfiguration on his robes into armor and conjured a sword. "I am Sir Harry Potter! I am here at your request my royal princess," Harry said talking gallantly while bowing at her like she was royalty.

That probably wasn't the smartest thing to do as the weight of the armor overbalanced him and he fell flat on his face.

"Ow."

Hermione's giggle turned into full-blown laughter as it became apparent that Harry was okay and even partially amused at his own antics. As Harry dispelled the armor, Hermione remembered reading that transfiguration was really difficult, and that the bigger the transfiguration, the harder it was to retain the energy in place to keep it there. She was impressed that a boy her own age could do transfiguration, and advanced level work at that as the armor had had plenty of detail.

She knew she would have to study really hard if she wanted to become close to his level.

Soon they began talking a bit in order to get to know each other.

**(((o)))**

"Do you see any other first years, Raul?" Neville asked.

"It's Ron."

"Whatever. Do you see any more?" he asked with a superior smirk on his face.

"No, I… hey, here comes one. Say, what's his problem?"

"I know him. That's Harry Potter. He's such a loser. I had to remind him of that just a month ago. Hello, loser, what are… urk."

Harry quickly grabbed Neville in a chokehold and entered his personal space with a grimace. "You're a creep, Longbottom. What did Hermione ever do to you?"

"…urk. Who?" Gasp. Wheeze.

"My height. Brown, bushy hair, helping another student look for her lost cat. She asked if you had seen it and all you thought to do was berate, belittle and insult her because you're, oh that's right, you're the wanker-who-lived."

"You can't talk to him like that," Ron said, pulling his wand out.

"Put that back, Weasel, or I'll make sure it gets shoved up where the sun don't shine. You got it? As for you, Longbottom, you don't go near my friends again or else."

"Er… or else what?" he ventured.

"You're a smart wanker, Longbottom. You figure it out. Now I promised Hermione that I wouldn't fight either of you earlier so I'm not going to thump either of you no matter how much you deserve it. But have either of you ever heard of an atomic wedgie?"

"What's that?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Funny you should ask…"

**(((o)))**

It had taken a little bit for Hermione to actually open up and admit what had happened to start the waterworks. Apparently a series of events happened with the end result a teary-eyed little witch entered back into Harry's life. After stowing her luggage in a cart, Hermione had tried her hand at a conversation with the kids in the car. They were all older than she was and they did what older kids usually did in events like that: they ignored her.

Figuring that it was an age issue, and not a blood issue as she had no knowledge of that particular slant of society, she went in search for kids her own age where she could have a more level-headed conversation about the merits of Hogwarts, or at least what she'd already committed to memory from _Hogwarts, A History_. A few times she was politely informed she was interrupting a private conversation among old friends, but more often than not she simply had the car's door closed in her face. Still determined, she eventually encountered two kids her own age that were looking for a lost cat. She jumped in for the search and about 10 minutes later she encountered a stuck-up blonde boy with two other large boys flanking him.

The blonde boy, who Hermione later found out was named Draco Malfoy, tried his best sneer out on her and called her a mudblood when she'd informed him that she was the first witch she knew of in her family. Lacking any perspective of the context that comment came from, Hermione was not insulted (i.e., she didn't know what it meant) and Draco was about to try out another patented sneer when lo and behold who should arrive but another two boys who had a particular vent against Draco, the one with red hair and freckles seeming to have the most ire at the blonde. The two groups traded insults for a bit and Hermione was about to leave when suddenly both groups noticed her and started insulting her, as if they were in a contest to see who could get her to cry first. Honestly, how rude. Hermione started backing out of that location as quickly as she could and a few minutes later she found herself in Harry's compartment.

Draco, Harry could understand. He was a product of his upbringing, and if Harry could circumvent that without killing the little s.o.b. (again), he would. It would certainly save the lives of more Slytherins later on. But Longbottom and Weasley? What had Hermione ever done to them? Longbottom was nothing like the Neville he'd known a life away. But Ron – as much as he hated to admit it, this Ron sounded just like the one he'd left: he was a grade-A jerk.

When Harry had explained at Hermione's insistence what that "mudblood" comment actually meant, Hermione was about to let loose another round of eye leakage. Harry was finally able to calm her down with a few light jokes, getting her to smile again. Shortly after that, he made an excuse that he needed to find the boy's loo and he'd be back shortly. That was when he went in search of Longbottom and Jerk.

Arriving back at the compartment, Harry slid the door open and noticed a few more people in there than the last time.

"Hi, Harry. Feel better?"

"Absolutely, Hermione. Once I got something out of me, I felt a lot better. Who are your friends?"

"These are the two kids I was telling you about earlier. This is Pam Turner **(1)** whose cat we were looking for…"

"Hi," she said, stroking a black and white furball.

"Hello," Harry replied sincerely. Harry never truly remembered his sorting all that well, he couldn't place all the kids no matter how hard he tried. But one thing was for certain: Pam Turner was never in Gryffindor.

"And this is Edward Gallandro **(1)**." He waved and Harry replied in kind. "They both came in a few minutes ago telling me they finally found Pam's cat. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Sure," Harry responded, taking a seat next to Edward, a dark-haired boy whose hair was cut short over two brown eyes. His thin lips weren't smiling as he took everything in. Harry had seen that look before. He'd need to talk a few things over with Edward before the year was out, one way or another.

"We were just talking about the houses at Hogwarts," Hermione supplied.

"I don't like Slytherin," Edward finally said.

"Really?" Harry's eyebrow shot up. "Why's that?"

"They wear green and silver trim on their robes. It is too girly." The way he said it – so matter-of-factly, Harry couldn't help himself and he started laughing.

When he finally stopped, Harry looked at Edward and stated, "You speak your mind. I like you."

"And what's wrong with being a girl?" Pam finally said, eyes narrowing towards Edward.

And that set off another debate on how Edward didn't want to be a girl, but he loved his mother and sister dearly. Harry noticed he didn't say anything about his father.

"So, Harry, what house do you think we'll be in?" Hermione asked.

Harry remembered quite a bit about his first year in Hogwarts the first time around. Amazing what a madman with a penchant to want to kill you could make him remember. The lousy hat had wanted to put him into Slytherin before he'd argued (more like pleaded) to not be placed there. Then he was placed in Gryffindor. At the time it was right for him.

But now?

Now was different. For one thing, he was pretty sure that Neville was going to Gryffindor and the last thing he wanted was to spend the next seven years sleeping in the same room at that prat. Or have to listen to Ron snore with that bellow set of lungs of his. Still, he didn't want to leave his friend alone with that sort of crowd if he could help it.

Ravenclaw? Certainly he was smarter than any of the other incoming first years, but he didn't have a love to devour a book. It was more a necessary chore rather than a love of books. He did it because he needed to, not because he wanted to. If he could, he'd rather read a nice fiction book like he used to back in his primary school. Textbooks were so dry.

That left Hufflepuff. Only, did he consider himself Hufflepuff material? He was certainly loyal, but not like he used to be. His loyalties were mostly to himself and what he considered important. Sure the school was important, but he wasn't loyal like he had once been. Harry was certain that there was no way he could summon Fawkes like he had during his second year. He wasn't that loyal to Hogwarts or Dumbledore. He was loyal to his family because they were inside his definition of what was important to be loyal to. Hogwarts Express? Outside. Leon (knucklehead that he was): inside. McGonagall? Outside, but nearly in. Flitwick? Same. Binns? Outside. Sirius, Remus, dad? All inside.

Hermione? Inside. He quickly thought of his friend. He'd missed her over the past year and wanted her back. He had a chance to set something right with her. But that still didn't answer her question.

"Harry? I'm sorry if I'm pestering you for answers. You don't have to tell me, that's all right," she stated, getting up.

Harry put his hand over hers, motioning for her to sit back up. "I don't think you're pestering me, Hermione. I was just thinking how I wanted to answer your question. My parents were both in Gryffindor."

"So you want to be in Gryffindor then?" Hermione asked in genuine curiosity.

"Not if I have to deal with Neville Longbottom for seven years, I don't. And since his parents' are from Gryffindor as well, I'm thinking that's where he wants to go."

"So then which of the other houses holds your interest?" Pam asked, curious.

"I'm really not sure. There's pros and cons to every house.

"Remember, Harry," Edward continued, "silver and green are girly colors. Blue, I'm not so sure about, red and gold are good."

Harry grinned at his new friend and nodded. "I think I'll just let the hat decide."

"Hat?" Hermione's face took on a very confused look like she was trying to connect the dots logically from A to B to C but suddenly dot B fell under the wheels of the Express and got sliced up on the way to Bath or Bristol.

"A living hat – kinda. It's how you get sorted into a house. The staff puts a hat on our heads that is sentient. The hat then proceeds to rifle through your head and figures out which of the houses is best for you."

"A hat that reads your mind?" Hermione was aghast. "I'm not sure I like something that can read my mind."

"Tell me about it," Harry commiserated. "I went about learning occulmancy so I wouldn't have anything but my own thoughts going through my head and here I have to let this hat have free access."

Hermione wasn't sure what occulmancy was but was sure it wouldn't be too hard when she got around to learning it herself. After all, if a boy her own age could learn it, she was certain she could too. At most it would take… what… a couple weeks? She'd have to ask Harry about it later.

"You're serious, right? A hat. That's all the test is: a personality quiz given by a hat?" Pam asked, wanting to make sure she wasn't getting pranked.

"Yup. Pretty much."

"No magical test of having to pull a rabbit out of a hat or pour milk down a paper cone and have it disappear, right? Nothing to have happen with a wand, right?" Hermione put in.

"Not that I'm aware of," Harry replied truthfully. "Why? Where'd you get that idea?"

Hermione shook her head slowly and looked down. "It was something I overheard," she admitted.

"Overheard from who?" Harry questioned.

Sigh "I caught a couple first years talking with that awful Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley earlier. They said it was a test. Except that Weasley said his brothers had told him he had to wrestle a troll and depending on how you did meant you went to a specific house. If you were missing a limb or finger you went to Hufflepuffs and all that rot. Honestly, how could I have been that stupid to fall for that?"

Harry chuckled and rubbed Hermione's back. "Hermione, you're not stupid. Let me ask: when you were a child, did you believe in fairies, unicorns, and winged horses?"

Sheepishly, she answered, "Yes. But to be honest, I was really young and my father enjoyed reading me many fantasy novels."

"All right," Harry agreed. "Now that you are here, now, on this train, do you believe in fairies, unicorns, and winged horses?"

"Huh? Well, no. Those were made up for fiction."

"Pam? How about you? You believe in them?"

"Of course. But then again, I'm a pureblood so I know about things like that."

"Hermione, it's like Pam said, all three exist. Just maybe not in the same context you read about. For instance, tell me about the fairies you imagined."

"They're small, winged people like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan. They have magical abilities and are awfully nice to young boys and girls."

"Okay. Big difference here is that those little blighters are as mean as all heck and you should always smack them away or they'll bite. That's a difference. But they've still got plenty of magical juice, so that's the same. See? Not everything is as you think it should be. What I mean by all this is that you a muggle-raised and have not been around magic all your life. It's natural to assume what people are saying is the truth until you get your own ideas on things. Just take it with a little healthy does of skepticism.

"And just so you know, I heard rumors that Ron Weasley's older brothers were pranksters. They probably gave him some weird ideas, like fighting that troll or something. We can only hope that he's still thinking it is true and is working himself up into a dither about it."

Hermione laughed slightly at the image of a puce-faced Ronald thinking he had to fight a Troll.

"We'll be arriving at Hogwarts in a little while," Pam said, getting up to leave. "We should get our school robes on." Her friend Edward also rose and together they left.

"Harry, do you think I might see a little more magic?" Hermione said her eyes wide.

"Oh?" Harry replied noncommittally.

"You see, when I got my letter, a few days later Professor McGonagall came by and demonstrated some magic. I was then taken to Diagon Alley to purchase my school supplies but after that I didn't see any magic and since we were not allowed to do magic outside of school, I… I… I just can't wait to see more of it. I've read up on some spells and all that, but haven't actually practiced any. And magic is simply astounding. And there you are able to conjure or transfigure or whatever and…" She stopped suddenly and her eyes went downcast.

"I'm sorry. I know I get easily excited when it comes to magic and I know I ask a lot of questions. People say I tend to annoy people when I ask questions. Sorry to annoy you." She got up to leave (again).

She had only taken one step before Harry grabbed her hands in his and gently said, "You're welcome to ask me any questions you want. I understand that you're a muggleborn, and that's okay. I don't mind the questions. I'm sure you have plenty of things you can tell me like who invented liquid soap and why. After all, what are friends for?" Harry smiled.

She had a hesitant smile. "Really? You'll be my friend?" she asked. This was certainly new territory for her.

"Of course!" Harry smiled.

She giggled and grinned. "Thank you."

**(((o)))**

The boat ride was uneventful. Hermione had gone back to her compartment to gather her things and her robe. She had met Harry near the boats and they met a couple other first years named Parvati and Padma Patil. Once on the boat it proceeded to the castle.

The only constant thing Harry heard on the entire ride was Longbottom bragging. It was amazing that his head didn't capsize the boat.

"…so you'll want to listen to what I tell you once we get there since I know most of it anyway," Neville said to two other boys that Harry recognized as Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. "I've simply been flying for years and as the Boy-Who-Lived, I've had plenty of tutors in magic."

Harry was simply amazed at the boy's ego and how anyone else could literally fit in that boat. Harry shook his head. Hermione saw it and quirked an eyebrow his way. Harry's head motioned over to Longbottom and his discussion of how he became a popular acronym (TBWL) to Dean's and Seamus' amazement. Harry shook his head again and rolled his eyes. Hermione followed suit.

In this one example of how his life could have been different, Harry was glad that he hadn't been raised to have such an ego in his own dimension. He would have rather not had anything to do with the Dursley's if given the chance, but at least he wasn't stuffed full of himself. It was hard to see the difference between his old friend, the caring Neville he'd gotten to know before he'd died, and this stuck-up version. He so desperately wanted to reconnect to his old friend, not this piece of work.

Events continued to unfold as they did for Harry the first time around. Hagrid dropped them all off at the castle, Professor McGonagall met them and escorted them to a room. There, they met some ghosts, which startled all the muggleborns, most of the half-and-half's, and even a few of the purebies. Harry wasn't startled so much as left to ponder what the Bloody Baron's visage on him meant. He'd floated in with the Friar and hadn't said a word even though Hufflepuff's ghost was keen to answer any question. Instead, he floated over to Harry and looked down on the boy with a piercing gaze.

When they approached the Great Hall, Hermione slipped into lecture mode telling Harry about the bewitched sky she heard about. "Hermione I know, I read _Hogwarts, A History_ as well," Harry said smiling at the intelligent girl who was now blushing.

Cheeks red, she looked down at her feet again. "Sorry. I forgot," she muttered.

"Like I said, it's okay," he grinned back, patting her on the back. Moments later they overheard Ron Weasley tell other students they had to fight a Troll to get into a house they wanted. Harry and Hermione shared a silent laugh.

Professor McGonagall gave the same speech that Harry remembered, explaining the houses and how they were to be your family and all that. Harry didn't really listen since it didn't matter what house you were in, students would be students and there was a very good chance you wouldn't like who you were bunked with, no matter what.

"All right, children, once you go through these doors you will be sorted one at a time. Wait until you are called before coming up. Okay, let's form a line. There you go. Now follow me."

The new students were paraded into the Great Hall where Harry got his first new look at his old classmates. As expected, there were a few new faces in the crowd that Harry didn't remember last time around. That was to be expected since his first time around he spent with his own clique instead of hanging out with the outgoing graduation class, like any normal 11-year-old would have.

As expected the line stopped and Professor McGonagall marched the rest of the way up to the front of the hall, stopping next to a stool holding a worn, black hat.

The motionless hat was no longer motionless and a mouth grew out of the brim. The rest of the students quieted down as they waited for the hat to begin its sorting song. Harry remembered this tradition. He'd certainly seen a few of them.

At the head table, Professor Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled. This was his favorite time of year. Seeing the fresh new faces of wizards and witches coming to his school. It couldn't get any better than that.

The hat's "eyes" (black cloth that they were) opened and the "mouth" looked to begin saying something.

Cruised into a bar on the shore  
Her picture graced the grime on the door  
She a long lost love at first bite  
Baby maybe you're wrong but you know it's alright  
That's right

Backstage we're having the time  
of our lives until somebody say  
Forgive me if I seem out of line  
Then she whipped out of her gun  
tried to blow me away

Dude looks like a lady  
Dude looks like a lady  
Dude looks like a lady  
Dude looks like a lady

"Minerva, the hat's on the fritz again," Professor Dumbledore said to his deputy.

With a frowned expression, Professor McGonagall began adjusting the tip of the hat, trying to get in better reception, or at least _different_ reception.

So never judge a book by its cover  
Or who you gonna love by your lover  
Love put me wise to her love in disguise  
She had the body of Venus  
Lord imagine my surprise

Dude looks like a lady  
Dude looks like a lady  
Dude looks like a lady  
Dude looks like a lady

"Minerva!"

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch, Albus. I'm working as fast as I can." The tip of the hat twisted back and forth, to the right, then the left, down then up.

Baby let me follow you down  
Let me take peek dear  
Baby let me follow you down  
Do…

…and Rogers has stolen the quaffle from  
Hamburg who you folks will be glad  
to know will be all right once all the  
bones in his hand are reset and…

What a funky lady  
She like it like it like it like that  
He was a lady

The hat quieted down, shook its head and said, "Pardon me. Let's try this again, shall we?"

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll myself if you can find,  
A smarter hat then me,  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,  
And I can cap them all,  
There's nothing hidden in your head,  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you,  
Where you ought to be,  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their darling, nerve, and chivalry,  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuff are true,  
And unafraid of toil;

Dude looks like a lady!  
Dude looks like a lady!  
Dude looks like a lady!

"Minerva!" Albus admonished.

"Don't you start. You're the one who won't pay for a service call on this bloody cap." She went back to twisting it around.

Dude looks like a…  
…Vennick dives for the snitch and a bludgers is on an  
intersecting vector… ooh, ouch, that's got to hurt, folks!  
Vennick has taken a shot in the …

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you're a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind,  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk will use any means,  
To achieve their ends,  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands,  
For I'm a Thinking Cap"

A spattering of applause came as the hat quieted down. A few grumbles could be heard saying they'd wished they could have heard the outcome of the Quidditch game. With a slight shake of her head to get rid of any lingering annoyance, Professor McGonagall began calling out names. Names that Harry recognized went to the houses he remembered them going to the first time around. As he watched student after student go the chair, he kept his peripheral vision on the most dangerous man currently at the head table. Quirrell was doing his best to look both interested and intimidated by the sorting.

"Abbot, Hannah!"

Hufflepuff!"

Now that Harry knew what sort of half-man he was, it was easy to spot the deception he was going for. Act all cowardly and no one would suspect you of trying to kill someone on a broom. No one would think twice if you were to run into a crowded room and yell "troll!" after which you then fell down and fainted. But best of all, no one would think you had the specter of Voldemort sticking out of the back of your head.

Harry knew he had a role to play in this somehow. He wasn't TBWL (thank God!) here and that meant he wasn't prophesized to take him down. But that didn't mean he would sit by and let anything happen to his friends. He wasn't about to let Hermione get petrified next year. If he had his way, he wasn't going to let her be hurt at all. Harry knew he had the best chances of stopping anything before it got out of control. He just didn't know when to put his foot forward to and stop the evil maniac but not to the point where it impacted on future events. Reality needed to play its game out. Things had to happen. He couldn't just rush up to Dumbledore and tell him Quirrell was Voldy in disguise – while the old coot might actually believe him, the specter might decide to take up residence in someone else and still try for the stone. Harry would be better off protecting the stone, or destroying it in front of Quirrell/Voldemort.

But all of this paled in comparison to what he really wanted to do. Go to school without making too big of a fuss for himself and thereby get Dumbledore's attention on him. If he did that, who knows what Dumbledore would do to manipulate him into a fighter for the good in all mankind type.

Harry had a plan, more of a rough sketch really, of what he wanted to do during his seven years there. And none of it involved going to extra classes brought on by one Albus Dumbledore. Barmy old codger. Let him pick on Neville if he wanted a champion so badly. It would allow Harry to stay in the shadows (pun intended). It would also allow him to have a life outside of manipulation-central.

As for Voldemort… he'd get his. No uncertainty about it. He'd get his one way or another.

"Gallandro, Edward!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Goyle, Gregory!"

"Slytherin!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione stood up with wide eyes and walked forward as confidently as she could. McGonagall put the hat on her head. It was on her bushy hair for at least a minute before blurting out: "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table immediately cheered as she went to sit down next to another first year girl, Lavender Brown.

It was taking anywhere from 1-2 minutes per student to be sorted, which included walking time from the back of the hall to the stool, then the personality profile test, to them walking to the table/house they were assigned to. Harry knew people were hungry but the excitement of the sorting was a fun interlude in what would more than likely be an otherwise (hopefully) dull school year.

As the sorting continued, Harry noticed that Dumbledore's attention was more on Neville than anyone else. All the more reason to hide in the background. Harry mentally shook his head: if only Dumbledore could see how his weapon worked now – he'd probably start looking around for something else to augment it. Harry's thoughts were pulled back to reality when Neville's name was called.

"Longbottom, Neville!" McGonagall shouted. Immediately everyone began whispering.

"That runt defeated you-know-who?" said a voice that Harry didn't recognize.

"He's not a bad looking kid, in a sort of pudgy looking way," said a girl near the back of the Great Hall.

Harry visibly shook his head at the comments (of which there were even more of the same vein). _Is this what happened to him only he never heard it?_ he thought. _Probably._

Neville Longbottom wore a smirk on his face as he strutted up to the stool like he owned the school. Harry caught Hermione's eye and the two of them rolled their eyes at the same time, grinning.

On went the hat. With any luck, Harry knew, he'd be placed in Slytherin for his parseltongue ability. Yeah, like that would happen. Dumbledore would probably have him removed within a day and placed in another house. Harry could see Neville was having a mental conversation with the hat. Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle as he probably realized where the hat was trying to coerce Neville into going. Or maybe not so much as coercion as a gentle reminder that his attitude was Slytherin and he was a grade-A jerk.

Moments later the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" The twinkle went back into place as Neville took the hat off and made his way to the Gryffindor table. He sat across from Hermione.

Other names, other houses. Some he recognized, some he didn't.

Finally, it was his turn. "Potter, Harry!" shouted McGonagall.

Harry made the long walk up to the stool. Hermione turned in her seat and smiled encouragingly. He smiled back but was nervous nonetheless. After all, where the heck would he end up this time? It was an alternate dimension after all.

Harry sat and the hat was immediately lowered on his head. There it sat for about half a minute before finally speaking out loud so that everyone could hear: "Dude, you have got to lower your occulmency shields." Bloody hell. His shields had been second nature for better than a year and he'd not forgotten that he had them in place, but he had forgotten to lower them when he sat down.

Immediately whispering and speculation started. Mostly from the Ravenclaw table where knowledge was king, but a few others at different tables also joined in with their counterparts.

Great. Just peachy. So much for operating in the background in anonymity. Could this day get any better?

Harry ignored the gossiping about his life and lowered his barriers.

Dumbledore was surprised although he didn't show it. Snape, however, looked on with a calculating gaze at a first year knowing occulmency, and the son of his nemesis to boot. Oh, how he hated James. Just wait until he had him in his class – oh, how he'd make him pay. Yes he would.

_Yo, hat,_ Harry mentally spoke.

_Wuzzup?_ came the response. _Holy guacamole, you're the oldest first year I've ever sorted. You're 18 for Thimble's sake!_

_Uh, yeah, about that. Funny thing happened this summer. You know how it is – magic, alternate dimensions, badda bing, badda boom, and Bob's your uncle. Do you mind not putting me in Slytherin?_

_Sure. You don't belong there any more than you belong in Gryffindor._

_Really? Oh. I guess Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would be okay._

_Those houses? You've got to be kidding. You're not suited for them either._

_Then what do you suggest?_

_Well, I'd give you your own house, but I think that's already been done somewhere in the multiverse.  
_(A/N: And it has been, too. Check out my other story, Fuzzy Pink Slippers, chapter 2 for specifics)

_So now what? _Harry mentally asked.

_Well, why don't I have a look see through your mind and cobble up an answer to that. Not to worry, I won't be revealing any of this information to that barmy old coot as you so affectionately like to call him. __I am not allowed to reveal private information from a person's mind without said person's permission. You try saying that three times fast and see where it gets you._

_Are you insane? I'm only asking because you sound awfully crazy._

_Does it matter?_

_Not really._

_Excellent. All my plans are sliding into place… but first, let's see what's in and on your mind. Okay, dimension traveler. Check. Heir to Slytherin by magic. Check. Heir to Hufflepuff by inheritance. Check. Heir to Ravenclaw by knowledge. Check. Heir to Gryffindor by blood. Check. Parselmouth. Check. Oh, you were the boy-who-lived in your dimension. You poor boy._

_Tell me about it._

_Oh yes, you're powerful; you defeated the Dark Lord at the age of 17. You were trained personally by Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel and even killed a Basilisk to boot. This is very impressive indeed and very interesting. I haven't sorted a person like you in a long time. You carry the wand of the Last Wizard King Azerothigan? Hmm... What's this? You're a... unbelievable, a Shadow Mage. There hasn't been a Shadow Mage in 3000 years! Dude! You rock! How about you and I kick this Popsicle stand and go clubbing. I'm sure I could land us a babe or two._

_Hat, I want to go to school. Remember? Besides, I'm 11 again. No clubbing until I get an ID._

_You're a wizard aren't you? Make your own ID already._

_I said no. Not at this time. Education is important after all._

_Party pooper. _

_So what's the verdict?_

_Well, I must admit. You are certainly a challenge, Mr. Potter._

Before the hat had a chance to continue, a certain Slytherin's voice yelled, "What's taking so long? It's been 15 minutes!" Draco Malfoy checked his watch to make sure it hadn't stopped and to calculate just how much longer this sorting was going to take. He certainly didn't understand why it was still going on as all the important people had been sorted already. Let all the riff-raff be sorted some time later if they needed to be.

Harry looked down at his watch and noticed that it had been indeed about 15 minutes since he'd started his conversation with the hat. Magically speaking, at least the hat was smarter and a better conversationalist than snakes.

Harry noticed Dumbledore giving the hat a strange look.

Behind Harry, Neville laughed. "Maybe he's a squib? I heard the Potters were weak." It wasn't funny, but some people laughed with him because he was TBWL. Stupid titles.

Harry was about to stand up and blast him anyway. That or hock a loogy at him. Or a spitball. He was definitely being short sheeted as soon as possible. No one talked about his family like that! He was proud of his family and no way in hell would he let anyone taunt them. The Boy Who Lived or not, Neville was about to get some serious punishment until the hat spoke out loud.

"Mock him all you want, Longbottom, but he has the characteristics of all four houses in spades; something no one has had in over 700 years of my sorting. It would be wise to not make him an enemy, little lion. So do not mock me on how I should sort! You may have survived the killing curse, but you are nothing compared to him!" the Hat said coldly. Or, as coldly as a hat could sound since it was essentially an animated inanimate object.

Everyone was speechless. Someone who has the characteristics of all four houses? More powerful than the Boy-Who-Lived? Nah, couldn't be. The hat must have still been on a different frequency.

Harry couldn't read what was going through Dumbledore's mind, but he had a nagging suspicion that it involved Longbottom and Potter teaming up to save the wizarding world's collective keister. More than likely the old coot would be talking to his parents at some time in the near future.

_You're probably right, _the hat replied. _He'll probably go on one of his 'Let A Little Bit Of Light Into Your Lives' crusade and try to get your parents on board with his way of thinking. Anyway, there is only one place for you in Hogwarts now, Mr. Potter. You would do well as, _"Apprentice!" the hat shouted.

That stunned the teachers. Apprentices were rare. Very rare.

"To which subject?" Albus asked the hat.

"All of them."

Oh. Apparently his day could get even better. Now everyone knew he was in the big power leagues and was carrying around a load of knowledge. So much for the background tactic.

_Feh, are you a shadow mage or not? You need the practice. You'll do well. Enjoy history._

A still-shocked Professor McGonagall took the hat off his head. Harry looked up at her and then towards the Headmaster.

"Have a seat wherever you wish, Mr. Potter. After the sorting I'll come talk with you."

"Mr. Potter, your power and potential are great; whatever your plans to do with it, do it wisely. Come visit me sometime so we may converse more on this subject. And if you're nice, I just might give you the latest Quidditch scores as well," the Hat said.

Harry nodded his head once to the animated headgear and then numbly made his way to the Gryffindor table and sat next to his friend, Hermione.

The Great Hall had been quieted by this latest development. The sorting hat had _never_ talked out loud unless spouting its annual song or announcing the House name for a first year. Many students just thought it sorted people. And now it wanted to talk with that Herman Potter kid? Hester Potter? Harry, that's it. Harry Potter.

"Harry?" Hermione started as the sorting continued. "Are you all right?"

"Apprentice," Harry managed to get out. "What the hell is that? I mean, I know what it is, but how does that work here at Hogwarts? How am I supposed to get an education?"

"Harry, don't worry about it so much. There have been lots of apprentices here at Hogwarts. Why, I remember reading there have been 56 apprentices here in the last nine centuries."

"Hermione, I read that too. And of those 56, 44 of them were apprenticed _after_ they graduated."

"Yes, yes, I remember that. But the remaining 12 were all apprenticed while they were still students. See, precedence."

"Hermione, do you recall exactly when they were apprenticed?"

"Of course I do. Eleven of them were apprenticed after taking their OWLS."

Harry nodded and added, "And they were all apprenticed to one subject to allow them to finish school."

"Turner, Pam!"

"But what happened to the last one?" Parvati asked, more interested in this conversation than the sorting.

"H. and R. Hufflepuff-stuff!"

"Yes, Hermione, what happened to the last one?" Harry said. He already knew. He'd known for a long time ever since he met the man.

"He, uh, went on to become a little famous."

"How famous?" Lavender queried.

"The kind of famous that doesn't die."

"Huh?" Lav looked at the girl she was sitting across from – Parvati, who also shrugged her shoulders.

Hermione signed in resignation. "According to _Hogwarts, A History_, the only other student designated an apprentice in his first year was Nicolas Flamel. This happened about 700 years ago. And according to rumor, Mr. Flamel is still alive. That's one of the things he's famous for."

"Weasley, Ronald!"

"Wow, Harry, that's great. You're going to be famous," Lavender gushed.

"Gryffindor for you, you little tool!"

"I don't want to be famous," Harry groused. "I want to be normal."

"Like you'd know what it's like to be famous," Neville sneered.

"You still seeing skidmarks, Longbottom?" Harry smirked.

Neville didn't reply and instead simply seethed at the indignity of having his own underwear pulled over his head on the train while he'd been wearing it at the time.

Harry's attention went back to the rest of the sorting. It was nearly over. All he could think of was that now Dumbledore's (and Voldemort's) attentions would be split between watching Longbottom and himself. And probably the rest of the school for that matter as well. Great. Could his life get any more weirder? Wait. Scratch that. It already had. No reason to try and jinx it again.

The sorting ended a few minutes later and the feast began in earnest. While everyone was talking and introducing themselves, Harry listened in and tried not to speak if he could help it. After all, knowing his luck he'd open his mouth and insert his own foot. Sure enough, 30 minutes into the feast the hall began to quiet down. Harry had been talking over a spell semantic with Hermione when he suddenly realized that people were staring at him. Again. Correction… they were staring at something behind him.

Knowing nothing good could come from waiting, he looked behind him and saw the Bloody Baron looking at him intently again. Could this day just end already!

After a minute of the Baron gazing through him at something, he finally broke the ice (as it were) and said, "You must be the Bloody Baron. I've read about you. I read that you died from wounds and magical exhaustion after saving Hogsmeade from an invasion 467 years ago. Rumor has it the invasion was spearheaded by a coven of dark witches and wizards."

A ghostly eyebrow rose. "You're well read."

"It keeps the nifflers away."

The Baron almost smiled. Almost. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry Potter. The Sorting Hat was right, you have great talents within you. Talents that would make you do well in Slytherin. Perhaps you should demand a resort."

"Actually I'm not sure that would be a good idea as if I were to be resorted, the hat might take offence and decide to resort everyone. And you know how it is if a Slytherin were to suddenly have to go to another house like Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Hmm, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. I could see about getting Malfoy into Hufflepuff. And of course since his father is on the Board of Governors for the school, he'll probably ask that the ghosts change around since he told me he had his heart set on having the Bloody Baron as his house's ghost."

"Possibly Slytherin might not be the best house for you after all," the Bloody Baron acquiesced.

Harry winked at the ghost. "That's okay. From the sound of it, I'm probably going to be in all the houses. It ought to drive those professors who like to take points spare trying to figure out which house to subtract from."

The Baron gave a rare genuine smirk, and floated back to the Slytherin table.

Conversation returned to its normal levels and another ten minutes went by before Harry was again interrupted. This time by the Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore then went on to inform him that due to his unique status, he would have a bed in each House's first year dorm. He had the ability to go to whichever house he wanted whenever he wanted, just to inform his house head of the fact as earliest as possible. If unable to do that, he was to inform the Hogwarts Deputy, Professor McGonagall, of his decision. As is, this first night he was to stay with the Gryffindor first years until he had a chance to meet all the other first years and decide on a more equitable sleeping arrangement.

As he was an apprentice to all subjects, he was to attend classes with whomever he wanted, no matter the grade level. As he was technically still a first year student, he was to attend the classes with his own counterparts first until he decided to change it up however he wanted. Should he decide he wanted to attend the older classes on a permanent basis, he would need to take the end-of-year exams to ensure he knew the younger year material. It was a formality more than anything else, and was mandated by the Board of Governors. This would also give his teachers time to evaluate him and see where he needed additional instruction. Again, if he were to begin changing from the set course they had him on, he was to inform the Deputy Headmistress of his decision and they would see to its implementation.

Being an apprentice also meant he had more leeway with school rules and had unlimited access to the restricted section of the library, although he was still responsible for appropriately checking books out. He was to have regular contact with Professor McGonagall and inform her of any independent study projects he wanted to do. He would still be graded along with the rest of his classmates in the regular first year courses but certain _higher_ expectations were going to be placed on him. Also, at certain times he would be expected to assist in classes, either helping students or helping the instructor, depending on the needs at the time.

In short, he was to get the lay of the land and then figure out what he wanted to do while still doing what he needed to do to stay alongside the key players of this little drama. Strangely enough, that was his entire plan to begin with. Thanks, Hat!

Near the end of the feast, Dumbledore made the same comments as last time about avoiding the Forbidden Forrest and the 3rd corridor under pain of death. Then came the school song (if you could call it that), and then the students were rounded up and sent on their way to their rooms for a good night's sleep. Honestly, who writes that drivel for the Headmaster anyway?

Percy Weasley was set to escorting the first years to the Gryffindor tower, and along the way they ran into Peeves. Harry had a soft spot in his heart for the pesky poltergeist, especially after the Umbridge year, but it had been a long day and Harry could see he had some dung bombs in his ectoplasmic hands.

Harry whipped out his wand and incanted, "Apocalypso-33!" **(2)** Suddenly a beam of greenish-brown light shot out and hit the poltergeist whose hands went to his rear end trying to sooth away the painful butt-boils on his ghostly body.

Peeves (and the dung bombs) took off with a scream. Percy gave Harry a confused frown, explaining to the nervous first years who Peeves was and that the only people that he listened to were the Bloody Baron and Headmaster Dumbledore.

"And Harry too I guess," Hermione said for her friend.

**(((o)))**

Not too long after the Peeves episode, Harry found himself in a dorm room with four other first year boys. None of which he really wanted to associate with, but that's life.

"All right, since I am the most important one here," Neville began, "I think I'll take the bed by the window."

"Feel free," Harry replied as the others went to claim their beds. "After all, it's only freezing by that window during winter. I'll just take this one by the fireplace."

"Not so fast, Potter. I've changed my mind. I'll take that bed now. Or else."

"Or else what, pipsqueak? You going to go medieval on me or something?"

"If I have to, yes."

"What's medieval mean?" Ron said to Neville.

"Can you growl at least when you're threatening me?" Harry replied with a smirk. "It makes you sound like a puppy dog trying to go up against a full grown Rotweiler."

"Huh?" Neville replied, trying to get his thoughts around the comment.

"Never mind, acronym-boy, I'll trade beds. It's not that big of a deal. Enjoy sweltering in the heat until it gets cold."

Neville stared at his bed and then at the fireplace. Then, "Rob…"

"It's Ron."

"Whatever. Trade beds with me. I need to know I won't swelter. It's important for my image to not swelter."

"Well, I'm not so sure I want to swelter either…"

"Hey, Weasley," Harry commented casually while pulling out some clothes and putting them away, "I heard that sweltering is a good way to get rid of freckles. Just thought I'd pass it along."

"Okay, Neville, I'll trade," agreed a suddenly amiable Ron Weasley.

Within a half hour, the boys were done putting their clothes and other belongings away and had dressed for bed.

"So, um, you're Harry, right?" Dean asked, moving towards Harry, hand outstretched to shake.

Harry looked at the hand and recalled a few other words that Dean (and Seamus for that matter) had used to describe him last year. Harry mentally shook those thought away. This wasn't the same person. He shook the proffered hand. "Harry Potter."

"Dean Thomas. I'm muggle-born."

"Seamus Finnegan, pureblood." Hands shook all around.

"Harry Potter. And blood affiliations are stupid. Kind of like Longbottom."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Longbottom. Just insulting your name some more."

"You're what?! How dare you! Do you realize who I am?"

Man, that was such a great line he always spouted. Harry knew he could come up with a lot more to fill that answer than just the standard 'No, why don't you tell me,' approach.

"I thought I answered that question last month. You're the Loser Who Lived, right?"

"That's rig… hey!"

"What's up, loser? You can't have forgotten your name already, right? Really, Longbottom, a month isn't that long in the greater scheme of things – you need to give your loser-ness some patience. Perhaps you'll outgrow it one of these days."

Harry ignored the spouting indignation from Longbottom and instead pulled out his Magical University course guide to get a better idea of what subjects he was missing out on. And what books he could finagle out of his parents. _Sheesh, look at me,_ he thought._ I'm turning into another Hermione._

"You can't talk to me that way," he finally said. "I survived the Killing Curse. No one else has ever done that."

"Uh-huh," Harry sat with his back to the headboard, flipping through the catalog.

"Why if it wasn't for me, the wizarding world could have been destroyed by You-Know-Who by now!"

"Uh-huh. You mean Voldemort, right?"

Neville, Seamus and Ron visibly winced. Dean didn't but that was understandable as he hadn't been raised around magic all his life. "You said his name!" Longbottom hissed.

"Sure. Why not? It's only a stupid made up name. I mean after all, who names their kids Dark Lord Voldemort? I'd hate to see his parents if they had named him that. Why? You think the big bad, supposedly dead boogey-man is going to come get you?"

The other boys looked at one another nervously. "No, that's just silly and…"

"Voldemort!"

"Aaaahhhh!" the three purebloods nervously shrieked. Harry could instantly tell who hadn't hit puberty yet.

"Longbottom, what is your problem? Why are you afraid of him? You obviously defeated him, yet you can't say that stupid name? Come on, show the world you have some iron already! You're not afraid of him, are you?"

"What?" he shrieked. Then, calmer, continued, "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not afraid of anything. Especially not V-V-V-You-know-who. After all, a great man once told me that to fear a name is to fear… uh, fear itself. Or something like that."

"Voldemort!"

"Aaaaahhhh!" Neville and Ron jumped.

Harry just grinned and sat back in his bed, reading while the rest of the boys bonded over what they came to name: hating that pest, Harry.

**(((o)))**

"Hey! What's the big idea of short sheeting my bed, Weasley?!" Longbottom shouted.

"What are you talking about? You short sheeted my bed." Ron got out of his bed and looked at the shrinking sheets with an awed look. Not even the Twins' pranks had managed to keep the sheets from shrinking any further than half their size. This one was going down… down… well, shoot, it was gone. "My sheets are gone. How about you?"

"What do you mean, they're gone? Say, where'd they go? Dean, you having this problem?"

"By problem, do you mean am I experiencing my sheets shrinking, or growing? Because I now have too much sheeting."

"Me too," Seamus piped in from below a set of sheets that strapped him to his bed.

"Potter? You having any problems in there?"

"I'm sleeping. This is an automated message. Go away."

"Um, can someone get these sheets off me? I'm getting claustrophobic in here," Seamus whined.

**(((o)))**

The next morning, Monday, Harry woke up at his normal time and made his way outside for some exercise. He decided to use the available castle grounds for his jogging until the weather turned foul, which could be at any time knowing Scotland. He had increased his younger body's endurance to allow for a one-hour run these days. He found running allowed his body to do one thing while his mind concentrated on other things. For the past three weeks he'd been trying to get any better angle on the Voldemort/Dumbledore situation. As is, he'd run countless if/then scenarios through his mind.

He knew he couldn't just point a finger at Quirrell and tell Dumbledore that Voldemort had possessed him. Even if the old goat believed him, and there was a pretty good chance he'd at least investigate, he'd want to know how Harry knew this when the TBWL didn't. Not a good way to operate in the background.

He couldn't go to Voldy and tell him to pack his bags because Harry was onto his little game. Not only would Voldemort have no compulsion about killing him (or at least trying to), he'd also paint himself as a target to eliminate. Again, not a good way to operate in the background.

So far his best option had been to keep his mouth shut and take in everything, assist when needed, and then strike when Voldemort's back was turned, like a true Slytherin. Hmmm, maybe the Baron had been right. That meant keeping the timeline on track and waiting for when Dumbledore left for the Ministry next June which is when Voldemort went for the stone. Unless, of course, he could off Quirrell earlier and make it appear that Neville did it.

Any way he looked at it, he needed to get Neville involved in some context. Even if to only use him as an excuse. Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I didn't mean to kill Professor Quirrell, but Neville and I had a bet and you know how it is… Hmmm, his excuses needed better work.

If he could keep the timeline going in the same direction (for the most part), then the optimal time to take down the dark tosser would be at the end of the Tri-Wizard competition. That way he'd have called his inner-circle to him as well. Take them all out at the same time. And, of course, he'd need Neville involved somehow. The prophecy was intended for him and probably wouldn't like Harry to do all the dirty work. No, he'd get Neville involved. And Harry would only do most of the dirty work. After all, he had no intention of letting all those people die again.

Not now. Not ever.

For the rest of his run, Harry thought about the classes he was going to take over the next few years. Potions, DADA, Transfiguration, Charms, Runes, Arithmancy, Healing, Divination, History, Magical Critters, Muggle Studies, Enchanting, and Finance (this one with a Goblin tutor more than likely). He was looking forward to getting a real education without some professor looking to wipe his slate every year. Ought to be fun.

After finishing his run, he went back to his dorm, saw the other were still asleep (lazy slobs) and hit the showers.

Refreshed, he made his way to the Great Hall and an early breakfast. While eating a protein-packed meal of cold ham, half a chicken breast, warm sausage, some toast, and plenty of fruit, he decided to write his family. Now that he had one, he was definitely feeling a little homesick.

_Hi, mum, hi, dad._

_Wow. It's been what, 24 hours since I started out on this trip to Hogwarts and I wanted to give you an update. First, don't believe whatever you hear from the Longbottoms. I wasn't even there. I must have been in Inverness or something at the time. Second, I'm afraid I have a little bad news. I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. Sorry about that. I know how much you wanted me to go into the Lion's den. The sorting hat said I really didn't belong to that one vs. others. _

_On the plus side, I'm not in Slytherin either. The hat didn't like that for me either. So you're probably thinking I'm in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Any guesses? The hat said I certainly was suited for Hufflepuff but it didn't place me there. And as for Ravenclaw (honestly, mum, you don't need to cry about me getting into the house of geniuses), the hat didn't like that one either. It didn't place me in any of the houses. So can you meet me at Platform 9 ¾ at 4pm today when the train gets in? I'll need to find another school. Sniff. It's so sad that I can't stay but…_

…_ahhh, who am I kidding? I'm just yanking your chain. I'm still at Hogwarts. I still didn't get sorted into any house, though. Mum, you sitting down? I think you'd better be. The reason I didn't get sorted into a house was that the hat made me an apprentice. It also said my apprenticeship was to cover all subjects here at Hogs so I need a few books sent my way. I'll also an account set up the Flourish's so I can order those books that I can't find in the library. Dad, do you know if we have any family grimours in our vault? If so, I'd like to take a look at them this Christmas holiday for a project I'm still putting together. _

Harry had already given some thought to his some projects. One possibility was to institute some Department of Health regulations with the House Elves. Harry chewed slowly and then stopped, pulling the remains of the sausage out of his mouth. As he looked intently at the remains of the link, he saw the couple hairs and dirt still attached to it. Good cooks they may be, but when they dropped anything on the floor they didn't want to waste anything and simply picked it back up and put it on the serving platter to send to the Hall. Definitely needed to get some health regulations instituted. Harry put the sausage back on his plate and inspected the piece of ham he was going to eat a little more carefully.

_Oh, and I wanted to let you know that I've met a couple other kids my age and have made friends. On the plus side, it's not Neville Longbottom or his patsy, Ron Weasley. It's a couple girls called Hermione Granger and Pam Turner, and a boy called Edward Gallandro._

_Dad, has Leon managed to break the lock on my room? If not, the combination is: Charlie-Bravo-Alpha-Gamma-One-Three-Seven-Zero. Try to speak with a German accent when talking to the door to get it to more easily recognize the passcode. Don't let him know you opened it – let him think he did it all himself. I have a few more surprises in store for him. _

_Oh, I just remembered: the Headmaster said that my apprenticeship means I get to choose whichever house I want to stay in. I'm shopping around. Last night I stayed in the dorm with Longbottom and at least one other wanker. You'd have thought I was in the Slytherin dorm or something. Hah! I crack myself up. Speaking of the Headmaster, that Albus Dumbledore looks like he's completely barmy if you ask me. Are you sure he's the Chief Warlock? Is there any way to vote him out? Or at least get him a medical examination? How about asking the minister to fund a bill requiring all Chief Warlock's to have regular medical and mental evaluations?_

_Tell uncle Sirius and Aunt Amy I miss them. And Remus to not forget to change the nappies!_

_Harry_

_P.S., has Jasmine's Veela heritage started to work its way to the surface? She's been a lot friendlier than she used to be over the past few months._

As Harry finished his letter, he looked up and noticed more people at breakfast. Looking around he saw Hermione and Lavender come in, chatting about something. He saw Lavender roll her eyes over something that Hermione said (probably something about studying and the other evil word: revising). Harry waved the two over and they sat opposite him.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said, looking around the table for something healthy to eat. Fatty foods seemed to be the norm, she concluded, and grabbed a bowl of mostly yellow scrambled eggs, with just a hint of hair. Hermione noticed these immediately after having survived her father's foray into making breakfast every now and then, and scooped out from around those hairy locations.

"Good morning, Hermione, Lavender. How are you two today? Sleep well?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess," Lavender replied, stifling a yawn.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You try sleeping through all the commotion coming out of Parvati's bed."

"Huh?" She wasn't dating anyone at 11 was she?

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure she didn't mean any of it."

"Mean any of what?"

Lavender replied, "She snores. A lot. Loudly."

"Ah. Then we'll have to get her to meet Ron Weasley. Together I'm sure they can bring down the walls of Slytherin."

"So, Harry, you looking forward to today?"

"Why? What's going on?" Lavender said, scooping up an odd looking piece of hash.

"It's first day of classes, Lavender."

"You're looking forward to going to classes? You're mental," she said.

Harry intervened, "Not mental. Dedicated. She wants to get a good education. After all, while you get to meet plenty of boys in school, it's only a good education that attracts all the handsome men."

"You're just making that up," Lavender managed through a mouthful of eggs.

"Not at all. Hermione wants a good education. She is very smart. She will graduate tops in her class and go onto a distinguished career in the ministry and be promoted to a high position. Men will gravitate to her because she is a powerful witch magically, politically, and mentally. The fact that she's a pretty girl and will grow to be a pretty woman will be the icing on the cake so to speak."

"Oh? And what about me, Mr. Wizard? If you can size her up so fast, where do I fit in to this vision of yours?"

"Give me a week, Lavender, and I'll answer you again. I need to watch you a little bit to get a good read. I'll tell you this much: you're pretty now and you'll be very pretty later. What you do school-wise I don't know yet. Like I said, give me a week and ask me again."

"So you're going to watch me for a week?" Lavender was intrigued.

"Not just you. I'm going to be watching everyone. I still need to find out which dorm room I'm going to be staying in."

"You don't like where you are now? You're sharing a room with Neville Longbottom of all people."

"Don't remind me."

"So now that you know about me," Hermione interjected, "does that mean you won't be watching me like everyone else?"

Harry wasn't sure how to read that question. "Actually, I'll be watching you even more than anyone else."

"Why?" She was curious to his answer.

"Two reasons. I want to see how smart you are and if there's anything I can do to include you in on any of the projects I may be doing down the road."

Ah. Academics. "And the second reason?"

Harry looked her straight in the eye, "The second reason is because you're my friend, Hermione. I like having friends."

Hermione blushed at this and went back to reading, thinking of something. Lavender was busy pulling something crunchy out from her teeth.

More people were coming in for breakfast and the Hall began to fill up. Included with the latest round of students looking for sustenance was Neville Longbottom and his gaggle of goons, now to include Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan. Longbottom glared nastily at Harry. Or at least as nastily as he could before his stomach gurgled, causing Harry to chuckle. Harry really had to look into sleeping arrangements in the other houses.

They sat a little way down from Harry, Hermione, Lavender, and now Parvati. Harry looked back at his friend and recalled a conversation he'd had with Ginny a couple months before she died.

The two of them had been on the Astronomy tower near 11pm, waiting for the clouds to pass so Ginny could get back to work charting the constellations. Harry had only intended to keep her company while she worked but since it was overcast, and cold, she snuggled up to gain some of his body heat under a blanket he'd brought. They'd been kissing to pass the time away, and chatting when they needed some air when Ginny got self-conscious and asked why Harry wanted her over any other girl at school.

"Because you see me for who I am, Ginny," he had replied.

"There are other girls here who can see you as well, Harry."

"Oh yeah? Name one." Harry was confident she wouldn't be able to.

"Hermione Granger for one, mister," she smirked at his reaction.

"Hermione? You're kidding."

"Yeah. I know you two aren't getting along now, but a couple months ago she and I were talking and she admitted it to me. She said she knew you really only saw her as a sister so she never wanted to go forward with anything else as it could ruin your friendship."

"But I thought she was into Ron…"

"C'mon, Harry, open your eyes. She likes Ron, but if she had her way she'd be your girlfriend. You have qualities that other guys can't match. Especially Ron. Tell me, Harry, did you ever have an argument with her besides the Firebolt incident? Do you get on her nerves everyday like Ron? Do you always come to her for homework like every guy at Hogwarts when they need help on their homework? Don't you always support her in everything? Don't you always comfort her when she's down?

"During her first year, she knew Ron wouldn't have come to help her from the troll if it wasn't for you. Why would he? He was the one who sent her crying there to begin with. You were her first friend Harry. You were someone who she could always rely on. She's liked you as a friend since first year and by the time you were in your fourth year, she started developing feelings for you. Why do you think Cho was jealous during your fifth year of Hermione? It was as a clear as day she liked you.

"Without you, she would probably just be a lonely person at Hogwarts. You tend to bring the best out in people. You do realize if it wasn't for you, she would've become a shell at Hogwarts? She would be alone and have no one. She can tell in everyone's eyes that she's annoying and bossy. But she keeps moving on because she knows you are the only one in the world that will see her for who she was. If it wasn't for your help, Ron would never have admitted his feelings for her. Now she has Ron and me to know that we will always be here for her. Well, more me than Ron if you know what I mean these days. He's a prat anymore. Like Percy."

Harry was speechless. All those times he helped Hermione. All those times she helped him, it made sense. If it hadn't been for him, Ron never would have rescued her. She would have died that night. But Hermione actually in love with him? But he was in love with Ginny. He thanked god that he hooked Ron up with her. She probably would have been heartbroken when he told her he was going to start dating Ginny. Then again, if they'd been dating, he wouldn't have started dating Ginny. As is, she had probably been hurt and hiding her feelings when he and Cho had been going out.

For some reason he felt like a jerk.

Ginny saw the emotions passing his eyes. His confused expression didn't hide anything either. She quickly snapped his thoughts by kissing him passionately.

Coming up for air a few minutes later, he looked her in those brown eyes of her and said, "If she had been crushing on me for years, then why go out with Ron?"

"Gee, nice to know my kissing you makes you think of other girls. I'm kidding, Harry. And the answer to that is because he was safe. He was an easy bloke to get over in case she was rejected."

"Rejected?"

"Dumped, Mr. Potter. She's always had a confidence problem and even I can tell she didn't want to be rejected by her best friend."

"Then why is she calling me Dark now?"

"Love makes people do rational and irrational things, you know that. Best I can tell is that she's trying to convince herself that she's in love with Ron and willing to do whatever it takes to keep him around. It goes back to her confidence issues."

Harry and Ginny had talked a little more on that subject but then got back to some more snogging and that was that for the rest of the night. Even when the clouds cleared an hour later.

So now Harry stared at his former/current friend sitting across from him eating some toast while she was reviewing her schedule. Harry's mirrored hers until he advised Professor McGonagall of any changes. He hadn't expected to reclaim his feelings for the Hermione of old, before she'd accused him of going dark. But here it was, staring him in the face. Or sitting across from him as it were.

Obviously he was too young to date now, but would he want to date Hermione in the future? He'd have to give that more thought at a later time. First things first, though, he needed to prop up that confidence. It wasn't healthy for her to do whatever someone else told her to do. She needed to be able to stand on her own two feet, if only to stand up to him.

As breakfast was coming to a close, owl-mail finally came. As usual, there was a great deal of it from families who hadn't been separated in months. He was no exception as his family owl, Lost (his father had named him when he'd gone to school), buzzed by, dropping a letter on his food. The owl let out a hoot of a job well done and then veered around to come in for a landing. Lost was a good owl and Harry was surprised when he landed next to his plate. He must have either sensed Harry had a letter for him to take back, or had seen Harry writing it.

Lost began eating the discarded sausage.

Or he was just hungry, Harry smirked at the bird. Harry stroked the bird fondly and turned his attention elsewhere.

For now, he couldn't wait to read the first correspondence from his family. Ever.

_Dear Sweetie,_

_How's your first day of school? What house did you get sorted in? Gryffindor like your parents? Or if not, how about Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw? How do you like your dorm-mates? I'm sure you'll get along just fine. I know you left yesterday but I miss you terribly. So do your sisters. In fact Rose wanted to ask you a question._

_Hi, Harry, it's Rose. Look, Shelia and I have a question we need you to answer. It's right up your expertise. Okay, here goes: mum says 500 degrees is all you ever need when preparing baked potatoes because it makes sure to cook it through-and-through, and it does it in record time. So the question is: is this a true statement? And if not, what should I be cooking baked potatoes on? And for how long? Mum says 50 minutes at 500 degrees is plenty. Your thoughts? And please be precise. I have a box of Raisin Bran riding on the outcome._

_Okay, honey, I'm back. Oh, those silly sisters of yours. Always questioning me about cooking something in the kitchen. But I don't have to tell you about that, do I? We're two peas in the same pod when it comes to cooking I always say. Oh, Sirius wants to tell you something._

_Harry, good, you're there. A quick note, my young protégée: End-say, are-cay, ackage-pay of iscuits-bay hen-way ou-yay an-cay. Oon-say!_

_I'm back, honey. Oh, that Sirius and his silly made-up language. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that we all miss you and hope your first day of classes are go well. Lily misses you terribly and if you can, please send her a letter so she knows you still think about her. Take care and write back soon._

_Love,_

_Mum_

_P.S. Harry, it's dad. Ix-nay on getting aught-cay with ranks-pay. Let me know how your first week goes if you know what I mean._

Harry smiled as he finished reading the letter. It was kind of weird when he thought of it; here he was 18 going on 11 and having the first letter from his parents ever in his entire life. Comforting yet strange. His mum seemed to feel he was still a child and though technically he was, she seemed to think he was younger than his 11-year-old appearance. Was that normal? Harry wasn't sure if he should ask anyone, but eventually thought he'd be better off working it into conversation with Hermione.

So. His dad wanted him to play some pranks and not get caught. Snape's class was coming up; he'd have to see what he could do. If only to prepare the man for when Leon came to school. That was the real prankster of the family. Actually, Harry was surprised that his father even implied he should do some joking around. Usually he saved that kind of instruction for his other son, the one that all the other adults said took after James. Leon was a natural in the air and loved to play jokes. His sisters were somewhere in-between. The original-Harry had been a prankster but not a flier. Or at least not a good flier. And if Harry had to admit it, he hadn't been that good of a prankster either. He usually replayed Leon's ideas months after the original hit someone, changing a few things here and there.

But now it seemed like his dad was warming up to him again. That was odd. He'd have to work that into conversation with Hermione as well to see if it was normal.

Harry decided to write a letter to all his siblings. No sense in just addressing one to his folks.

_Dear little Lily,_

_Hiya, shortstuff. Well, here it is my first full day of school and I have to say I miss you terribly. You're not around for me to pick up and put on my shoulders, you're not there for me to tickle you, so you'll have to be content with the minor tickling charm I put on this letter. Every time you read it, you'll be tickled. I want you to know that I miss you very much and am looking forward to Christmas when I come home. I'll see you then. Take care and no more crying. Love you._

_Dear Leon,_

_You in my room yet? If you are, watch out for the monster under the bed. Not to worry about the rest of the family, I used an effigy of you to get him good and riled up. If you want to stay in my bed, you better get used to jumping from at least three feet away from the bed. Old Harvey has a long reach._

_Dear Shelia,_

_Attached to this note is a care package with some cold cuts and rolls. I know you and Rose don't want to keep eating cereal for breakfast until I get back in December. I'll try to send you more treats the next time you send me a letter. That's a hint by the way._

_Dear Rose,_

_Your sister Shelia has some ham contraband. If you want some as well, I'd advise sending me a letter and telling me what's going on in your life. And by the way, you will find a very helpful tome in the kitchen, in the back of the pantry, behind the jars of pasta. It has a red cover. Get it. Open it. Read it. It will help you like it helped me. It is called: A Cookbook for Beginners. It talks about potatoes there._

_Dear Sylvia,_

_How's school for you? Enjoying being a big girl now? Torment your other older brother for me will you? I miss you. It's boring here at Hogwarts as classes haven't started yet, but give it time and I'm sure it'll become interesting. Have fun this term!_

_Love you guys!_

Harry re-read the letter to make sure all the specific points were there. He told his sisters he cared and loved them, and put a scare into Leon. Good enough. Maybe he'd even have to shadow-travel to his old room one night and see if Leon was there. And if there, perhaps scare the crap out of him by trying to grab his ankles when he gets out of bed, like any good monster under the bed would do. The letter done, Harry spelled it to only tickle little Lily when she touched it and then rolled it up.

He looked at the family owl, Lost, and shook his head sadly. A month ago when he'd gone to Diagon Alley his mum suggested getting him his own owl and Harry had jumped at the chance. They went to the store but there was no sign of Hedwig. He hadn't bothered after that and instead told his mum that the family owl would be good enough for now. He agreed to tell her if he changed his mind.

Both letters rolled and sealed, Harry gave a little more sausage to the owl and then offered the parcel to the bird. Lost took the letters in one claw and then flapped out of the Hall. Harry watched the bird fly out. He couldn't wait to get back in the air himself.

Today was Monday, September 2nd, 1991. It was time to get ready for classes. It was going to be an interesting week.

**End of Chapter 3**

**(1) **See what happens when you leave nice reviews? You get written into the story.

**(2) **See what happens when you leave naughty reviews? You get written into the story as a hex.

**I would like to thank everyone who has been reviewing this story, I greatly appreciate it. After posting the last chapter I took a week off to see if this story would be removed. Imagine my surprise when it wasn't. Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to post. It probably will, but I can always hope, can't I? **

**I have been asked several times who the pairing will be. I can definitely say the following with strong conviction:**

**It will not be Harry/Ginny. That ship has sailed and it sunk in the harbor, so no worries there.  
It will not be any sort of Slash. I don't go in for those kinds of stories.  
It will not be Harry/any older teacher. That is just wrong on so many levels.**

**Who will it be then? Send me some ideas if you want. I probably won't use them, but we can at least keep track. I have some ideas that will come to play in later chapters, but I'm still open to other ideas from anyone who wants to send them. I'll even keep a counter going in the next chapter.**

**Oh, and anyone who sent me an email address, FFNET removes those from the messages, so you may want to send them again if you want, but break them apart so it doesn't read like a link.**

**Please R/R!**


	5. Chapter 4: Back in the Groove Again

**Disclaimer:**** Not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling.**

My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I had meant to get it posted earlier but I ran into several things that slowed me down. First was the vacation I took with my family. Second was some things that came up at work that precluded me from spending any time whatsoever from working on this story – as well it should since that is what pays the bills and this is simply a hobby. And third I wasn't motivated for a few weeks following the death of my brother's mother-in-law from the same thing that I have (and she didn't even have it as long as me). She was told it was in remission but it came back. Here's hoping that good luck is on my side since I'm in remission now as well (and I'd like to stay that way).

Some good news now is that I got a reply from SilverAegis and he officially gave me the okay to redo his story. Like I said before, his story had some good imagery now and then and I wanted to see the story thru to the end. Now I can.

A few recent comments criticized my writing, basically stating it was juvenile in nature. All I can say to that is that it was never my intent to write the great American novel (I was born in England but moved to America at an early age, young enough to not even have a good accent drat the luck), and that this is just a recreational hobby. Who knows, it may get progressively more adult the longer I continue it. I wouldn't count on it, though.

Chapter 4: Back in the Groove Again – Fall Term Year 01 

At the end of the first week, Harry stood atop the Astronomy tower at 10 PM looking at the Forbidden Forest with undisguised interest. Being a shadow mage definitely had its perks as it allowed him to see perfectly well in all kinds of shadows, and that included the night. Every now and then he saw a centaur gaze his way trying to see if there was anything different about the boy on the tower. He'd used an ocular enhancing spell to see further than normal so as to get a better view of the creatures of the night. There were plenty to see and several he couldn't identify. He was only glad he wasn't part of their nightly hunts. The only downside of the spell was that while it brought far images in close, it brought close images in even closer which played havoc with his equilibrium. Imagine looking at a door approximately 10 feet away in real space, only with his vision enhanced he was looking at the individual slivers of wood on the door.

In a word, it gave him a headache to look at any close images which is why he only used it when he had a good view of the countryside. Or the night sky. He looked up and the stars hadn't been brought any closer, but they were certainly brighter. Harry was glad Hogwarts was outside the light pollution of Glasgow or Edinburgh.

Harry took in the closer view of the moon and its dead seas and contemplated his first week of being back in the school groove.

It had been seven years since Harry had to think about being 11 and in school as a first year again. He'd contemplated what it meant over the summer; he knew he'd lived through it once before and had full confidence that he could do so again. But he never really gave it any serious thought.

He should have.

For one thing: it was absolutely boring. He already knew the material like the back of his hand. If he'd thought ahead, he could have transfigured the covers on some more interesting books and taken them to class when he wanted a quick read. Books like Art Haugh's: Re-charming Transfigured Charms, or Bob Bell's: Rituals Made E-Z, or even John Sheppard's: So You Think You Know Everything, Eh? Boy Are You In For A Surprise.

As expected, Harry had the traditional courses of Astronomy, Charms, DADA, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions (ick) and Transfiguration. And as mentioned in the previous chapter, his scheduled mirrored Hermione's and the rest of the Gryffindors for the most part. What actually caught his attention, however, was that when Professor McGonagall gave out schedules, she sat down and talked about his. As he was an apprentice, he was actually offered entry into several more classes than the rest of the first years if he so chose at any time. The Deputy Headmistress downplayed Divination (naturally) but said he would probably benefit from Muggle Studies – after all, she'd spoken to his parents earlier in the summer and they mentioned his limitations with the muggle world, never having left Godric's Hollow for anything other than routine medical checkups at St. Mungo's and the like. Harry agreed and also asked to sit in on Arithmancy and Runes when his schedule permitted, explaining he may not take them this year, but next year it sounded very interesting.

The final thing she had asked him before getting back up and moving to the rest of the students to hand out their schedules was to inquire about what classes he wished to attend with what students. Quickly catching her drift, Harry admitted he was going to attend the regular classes with the Gryffindors the first week, possibly even stay in that dorm until next Monday before checking out the other houses.

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Potter," she had replied. "Perhaps you might find that Gryffindor suits you after all."

Harry could see what she was trying to do. She was trying to influence his decision to stay in her tower and gain her students extra points. Harry remembered reading in the Hogwarts history book that students received points and had them taken away based on which house they stayed in. Not specifically which ones they were sorted into as there had been over a hundred requests to change houses over the centuries.

After breakfast Harry went with his friend on her way to classes.

**Transfiguration Class**

The first day for first years in Transfiguration certainly brought Harry back. Professor McGonagall was identical in every aspect to her counterpart in his world. Truthfully, most of the teachers he'd met were the same, or nearly identical. Although the classroom Harry had to go to for his first class with his old teacher was a room he'd never been in before, he knew the general layout of the castle from his first time around so was able to guide Hermione and himself to the classroom without too much of a hassle. Later years would have that classroom moving about the castle. Like the stairs that kept changing positions, the classrooms also tended to do that. When Harry had quested Albus about it last year he'd actually gotten a refreshing straight-forward answer: it was to ensure the students had to sprint to get from one classroom to another and not get fat from all the sweets they were packing away every day. It also kept everyone on their toes when trying to locate a classroom.

Basically, it all boiled down to his familiar catch-phrase: it was for your own good. Bollocks. If he were in charge of Hogwarts, he'd certainly put a stop to the classrooms moving around.

Professor McGonagall had always been the hardest teacher to impress enough to give points. That was easy enough to understand: she always expected more of her students than the rest of the professors. And being an apprentice, Harry was sure she was going to expect a lot out of him. The first lesson had been the standard of transfiguring a match into a needle. Harry had gone to school for seven years and knew the coursework like the back of his un-scared hand. He couldn't remember every lecture verbatim or even cite a passage out of any book, but he knew his spells. The simple ones all the way to the tough ones, he recalled every single one with clarity.

Harry hadn't come to school to outperform every other student, and especially hadn't come in to show up Hermione. He had come to school to solidify his position within the world and give himself an alibi while he went horcrux hunting. He was here to ensure the prophecy was met full force and the person he deemed was worthy enough be the victor. The sheer fact that Voldemort was a murdering psychopath was enough to sway his vote to Longbottom, irritating prat that he was.

Still, he needed to do his assignment. And being an apprentice did give him an advantage knowledge-wise as it was already expected of him. So zimba-zoomba, the match was a needle. Of course, the needle was now multi-colored and could combust at any given moment, but it was still a needle. Harry opted to make his assignment more interesting and kept changing it back and forth, changing it a little bit here and there until it was a pen that could catch fire.

"Mr. Potter? May I ask what you are doing?"

"Oh, sorry Professor. I'm just seeing how far I can transfigure the match. I'm looking for optimal weight/height/density restrictions."

"And have you found any limits so far?" This was something that intrigued the professor. That specific theory wasn't even discussed until OWLs.

"I started to reach a 15 centimeter length limit until I transfigured the needle into a pen first. That got it working again. Now I'm just playing around seeing if I can incorporate the properties of the original match into the transfigured object. You know: a light pen."

"Impressive, Mr. Potter. Any luck?"

"Not yet. The pen lights up, but it catches fire and the ink burns too fast. I'm going to have to give it another go with converting the sulpher in the match to a lithium battery."

"You realize that a muggle battery won't work correctly in Hogwarts, don't you?"

"Eh, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it," Harry replied offhandedly. "I guess I could always try storing a lumos spell within the confines of the lithium. Maybe even extend the battery's life."

Startled at the suggestion (especially since she hadn't thought of it in all the years she'd been teaching), she said, "Ah… good work, Mr. Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor. You certainly have your father's talent for Transfiguration."

"I hope you have that same attitude when I'm bunking in another house, Professor," Harry smirked.

"Anything is possible with magic, Potter," she replied with a slight smirk. "Since it appears you know the subject, would you please assist other students until I have a better understanding of your skills? Next week I want to schedule some time with you to go over your knowledge." She then turned to help another student.

Harry saw Hermione struggle with the coursework, turning the match into a partial match/needle.

"Hermione? Do you need some help?"

"No thanks, Harry. I saw you do it a few minutes ago so I know I'll be able to do it any time now. It can't be that hard, can it?" She tried the spell again and it became a matchstick with a needle handle at its base.

At that moment, Harry saw something he hadn't seen in quite a long time: his friend. He saw Hermione on the train and saw his old friend. He saw Hermione at the Gryffindor table and saw his old friend. He saw this Hermione struggling with a first year spell and now saw: his new friend. This wasn't the old Hermione; this was someone altogether different. Someone he could still be friends with.

"Hermione, can I tell you something? A secret that might help you?"

She stopped the incantation and lowered her wand. She looked around the room and noticed others were still working on the match, their faces scrunched in concentration.

"I taught myself several spells from the books I read over the summer, Harry. I was able to understand them completely. Why is this giving me such a hard time?"

"Spells are fairly straightforward in thinking and in their desired reaction. Transfiguration is governed by a grownup secret, Hermione. I only know because I overheard it a couple years ago which is why I'm able to do it so well now."

Voice quiet, she said, "What secret?"

"Hermione, transfiguration is basically understanding the association game," Harry said in all honesty.

"What?"

"The rules of association, Hermione. If you had the magical strength to do it, you could take a clump of dirt and turn it into another planet. Or even the sun if you didn't get fried in the attempt. But in order to do it, you need to understand the association convention that is linked with all transfiguration.

"Take this needle. You are being asked to turn it into a matchstick."

"Opposite that, Harry," she corrected

"Whatever. But could you turn this needle into a beetle? Or the beetle into a car? Or the car into lorry? Or the lorry into a road? Or the road into a highway? Or the highway into a runway? Or the runway into a jumbo jet? Or the jet into a plane? Or the plane into luggage? Or the luggage into a bag? Or the bag into a bug? Or the bug into a beetle? Or the beetle into a needle? Or the needle into a matchstick? It's all about association."

"How do you know about it if it's a grownup secret?" she questioned as the wheels within her mind began to assimilate the information.

"Like I said, I overheard a conversation years ago. Then I started thinking about it and forming the right associations within my mind. One day I even looked it up in a transfiguration book. It's a simplified overview of transfiguration, but it is still valid. The book went on to explain that the early years in school were about learning how to make associations and get the magic to work the way you want it to before you start deconstructing matter and turning it into something else. I mean, think of the damage we could cause if we took a toaster plugged into the wall and magically transfigured it into a cat."

"Fried cat? Electrocuted because its tail was still in the wall?" she offered.

"Now you're getting it. There's more to transfiguration than just the association game, but knowing it allows you to create bigger and better things. Faster, too – especially once you create some mental macros to get the association down. After you get the first one down, it then becomes a matter of understanding matter properties and limitations. The summer I thought about this I tried to speed things up with a few good results and a lot of exploded water balloons as not so good results."

Actually, Harry had spent the summer of his 12th birthday locked up at the Dursley's without anything to do (they had not forgotten to lock up his magical supplies like they'd forgotten to feed him for days at a stretch) and had given this a lot of thought. It was all theory until he got back to Hogwarts and began to look things up in the library between classes. He never really had any time to pursue it as he had other spells to learn to keep him alive, but now he had the time, he was going to explore this avenue of magic.

When he had found Jim Dorr's book on transfiguration (A Monkey isn't Money no matter how hard you try) and read up on how to do things, damn, but wasn't he spot on with what was going through his mind over that summer. The younger years were spent in school learning to associate. The later years spent learning how not to kill an organic when transfiguring it.

And the NEWT classes covered transfiguring non-associates. Like mood rings into water vapor.

A few minutes later, Hermione calmed herself down and listed to Harry's advice on what she was doing wrong. She focused the stretch of wood into metal and slowly, her match turned into a needle. By the end of the class, they were the only two to have managed to turn a match into a needle the entire way. Others were close, but a sneering Longbottom scoffed at them only to have McGonagall immediately berate him, "At least they managed to turn it into a needle, Mr. Longbottom. You've had tutors supposedly. Why hasn't yours turned yet?"

"Um… I'm charging my magical core with the energy to do it?"

"Well, charge faster because this class ends in a few minutes. And all of you that haven't successfully transfigured your match are to take it with you and continue working on it until next class. I'll evaluate your progress then. Okay, Mr. Longbottom. Your turn. Transfigure."

"I'm not sure I'm ready…"

"Now."

"Yes, ma'am." Neville focused his attention on the matchstick and waved his wand. Harry took the opportunity to send a silent localized heat spell towards the match and was rewarded when the match ignited on Longbottom's fifth wand wave.

The rest of the class laughed.

"Hmmm. Perhaps too much wand waving, Mr. Longbottom. Here's another match. I want you to continue practicing. I expect a better performance next class."

**Herbology Class**

Plant class was much the same as it had been as well. The thing about going back in time (even if it was cross-dimensional time) was that a certain amount of redundancy could be expected, if not anticipated. This was one of those times. Harry didn't much mind as this class was now something he could follow after having seven years of potions. He now understood where some of the ingredients came from, and why certain methods were used to pluck, snap, saw, gnash, and bludgeon plants into giving up necessary parts. Harry even understood why Professor Sprout was as protective of her agriculture as she was.

Interestingly enough, the first lesson was to get students prepared for an upcoming number of years of getting their hands dirty and Professor Sprout had assigned the class (including her apprentice) the task of replanting some Caramba plants. Fairly harmless, the plants were used in a variety of potions and even in some wardings. They were alert plants which made sounds based on certain conditions which is why warding homes often included these plants as natural fire/burglar alarms, and several healing potions that imbued essence of Caramba were known to advise healers when the potion was no longer effective when stored for long periods of time. Usually, this information came in the form of an insult in the healer's own voice, but that was a small price to pay when someone needed an anti-gas potion in a hurry.

Professor Sprout matched up students to this task, two per pot. The plant, while relatively harmless, still possessed enough awareness to know when someone was trying to tickle its roots and often tried clubbing the invader. One student was to hold the plant's foliage in check while the other was to repot, add some nutritional supplements, water, sing a soft song, and then finally spritz the plant back to a healthy glow. Or as much of a healthy glow a red/green/brownish-blue plant can have.

Harry can only guess that his current predicament was due in part to his conversation with the professor as he came into the greenhouse.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, my apprentice. Can you tell me what this is?" she held up some tools.

"Gardening tools," Harry deadpanned. No reason to keep this easy. She was looking for something to trip him up. He was sure of it.

"Close enough. Tell me, what would you do if you came in close contact with a Whomping Willow?"

"Run like hell to get away from it."

"Heh, heh. True, I guess I wasn't very direct on that question. Allow me to rephrase. What would you do if you touched the base of a Whomping Willow that happened to have a 10 meter reach?"

Harry immediately answered, "The first thing I'd do is begin looking for the knot at the base of the tree. Once found, I'd massage it to work out any kinks. That should assuage the tree enough for me to make my escape."

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Not many people know that trick. Care to tell me how you know?"

"Experience."

"Fair enough, young apprentice. As this is our first class, I want to see how you perform for a few sessions before we can evaluate where you should actually be. And if you are as half as talented as I suspect you are, we shall certainly have an interesting time over the next seven years."

"Thank you, professor."

"You're more than welcome, Mr. Potter. I'm wondering, though, have you given any thought as to which house you are going to select as your primary?"

"Actually I'm still evaluating. I'm in Gryffindor this week and I thought I'd try out Hufflepuff next week. With your permission."

"I can honestly say we'd be delighted to have you. Ah, the rest of the class has arrived. Time to start."

And fifteen minutes later Harry found himself with a pre-selected partner, someone he really didn't want to be with: Neville Longbottom. But to be fair, no one in the class was partnered with someone they wanted to be with. Hermione was working with an obtuse Ron Weasley. Both were glaring at one another.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Dumbledore was behind the pairing of him and Longbottom, trying to get them both to become great pals and fight for the light and all that rubbish. Boy was he in for a surprise down the road.

Grudgingly, the two boys began the project.

"I'm in better shape, so why don't I hold the fern down while you repot," Harry suggested, twisting his wrists to get the kinks out.

"It's a Caramba, Potter, not a fern. Honestly, how can you not know that? After all, you're the _apprentice_," he sarcasmed.

"Look, you can badger me with semantics all day if you like, but I know enough about magical plants to know this: you'll get the stuffing knocked out of you unless you can get those branches in a tight lock. Now, you want to do the holding or the planting?"

Reluctantly, Longbottom got the tools and the new pot ready. With a nod, Harry lassoed the plant and then rushed into to essentially hogtie those branches the initial rope missed. Five minutes, two bruises, and three lacerations later, Neville moved in to repot the pesky fern.

While Longbottom began the work with a skilled surgeon's care, Harry noticed (with some annoyance) that he and the acronym-lad had been given the largest Caramba to work on by far. Nearly twice as big as the others. He noticed that Hermione was working on her plant while steadily berating a nervous Ron (who was barely holding the branches back).

His gaze going back to his task at hand, Harry struggled to keep a branch from moving in and smacking his lab partner. Harry slapped the vine back and very quietly whispered, "Hey, if anybody's going to smack that git around, it's going to be me, not you! Got it?!"

Surprisingly, the plant almost appeared to have gotten it.

The repot went smoothly thereafter, and as Neville finished with the jazzed-up dirt, he began to sing a song. Harry watched, transfixed, as the plant began to relax in his arms. This moment and none other reminded him of his old friend. This was the Neville of old.

The arrogant git was gone. The shy boy was gone. The confident kid who could become a confident man could be seen as Neville sang out his slow song. Harry could feel the emotion in the song: it wasn't hurried up or sang out of irritation like Harry might have done. This was done with care and the plant was responding in kind.

As Neville finished the song, Harry said, "That was a nice tune, Neville. The Caramba really enjoyed it. You're very good with plants: why?"

Neville pulled out the spray bottle and began the spritz the plant with another nutritional supplement. "Oh, plants are easy. They don't expect anything from anyone at all. I can just be myself around them and not the boy-who… why are you asking me that, Potter?"

Harry noticed that Neville's demeanor changed mid-sentence and all semblance of the caring boy was gone again.

Neville angrily sprayed the remainder of the bottle haphazardly at the plant. "Finally coming around to my way of thinking? I am after all a pretty important person in the wizarding world in general."

"No, not really. I was just wondering if you were as big an arse here as you are in the rest of the school. Got my answer."

"Oh my, gentlemen," Professor Sprout remarked seeing the work they'd done. "You had the hardest assignment and you both pulled it off without fail in the quickest time. I'm proud of both of you. Well done. Ten points to Gryffindor for each of you. Now the only thing left is to activate its defense mechanism. Mr. Longbottom, if you don't mind?"

"Yes, ma'am." To the plant he said, "Aye Caramba!"

Any of the leaves that had started to droop instead stood at attention.

Harry couldn't help but think that expression sounded vaguely familiar.

**Muggle Studies Class**

"Good afternoon, class. My name is Professor Bark. And as muggles would say, my bark is worse than my bite. Heh-heh. Okay, first assignment. I want you all to locate a muggle-raised student and get clarification from him or her as to what that joke meant. One foot of parchment.

"Now as you may see we have a younger student than normal in this class. Mr. Potter is an apprentice and I'm sure if you have any questions you can feel free to ask him when he has free time. Right, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, yes sir. But not when I'm getting ready for bed as my bite is worse than my bark. Unless I'm in Herbology working on a Whomping seedling."

"Heh-heh, quite right, Mr. Potter, quite right. You're excused from the joke clarification assignment. Now, class, we have a lot to cover this term. As you may be aware, the general feel for this class by most is that we will be learning history, culture and psychology of muggles. That is not entirely true. We will be covering those topics in a general feel, but this class is also intended to provide you with some basic facts and foundation of the muggle way of life. It should help any of you who are planning to go native when you graduate. I myself went native for a few years to see how they lived and let me tell you, it is a fascinating experience. They have so many things these days it is impossible to keep them all straight."

"Professor," said one of the third year students in the first row. "What did you find the most fascinating of your experience?" Harry later learned her name was Sarah Beth Langley.

Professor Bark thought about it for a moment and then said, "I'd have to say the most fascinating experience I had was the Drive-In mating ritual that muggles have."

Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what the Professor was talking about. It helped that he was in fact 18 and not 11. It didn't seem to help any of the other 13-year olds in the class. When they were older, they'd probably get it.

"What do you mean?" Sarah pressed.

That is, unless someone asked. Hoo-boy.

"Well, Miss… Langley?" he checked a seating chart. "Langley. Right. Picture in your mind it is 1974. August. Hot. I've traveled to the colonies. I'm in a state they call Indiana. It's Saturday night. The town isn't as big as London. They don't have magic to provide any entertainment. So the locals who I was chumming with decided it was time to take their dolls to the drive-in. Apparently this is an outdoor cinema and they were going to show a program called 'Chick Flick.'

"Well, as the day wore on my chums were able to get young women to agree to go to the cinema with them. I had no idea it was an outdoor cinema until later. We all piled into multiple vehicles and I was riding in the back of an El Camino as we went to a large square of land that held this big white board on it that the film was projected on. Mr. Caruthers? I'm not losing you so soon, am I? You do know what a film is, right? Think of a consistently moving picture like a newspaper photo, only with sound. And it tells a story."

"Wow. Those muggles think of such amazing things!"

"Yes. Quite. Now you might wonder why these muggles decided they wanted to spend the night outside on such a hot night. It was uncomfortably hot and they knew of no cooling charms. Yet, here they were in the middle of nowhere watching to watch a film from the confines of their El Caminos, station wagons, Comets, Datsun's and Toyota's.

"Well, once parked in a secluded area, those of us unable to acquire proper company were asked to vacate the vehicles and wander around the snack shack for an hour or so. The film began and an hour or so later a couple mates and I went back to the cars. For some reason they had the windows up instead of down. I thought I had been mistaken about the cooling charms and made my way to investigate the interior. This, class, leads me to the week's assignment. You are to research and write two feet of parchment on the meaning of the phrase: 'Don't Come A Knockin' If the Car's A Rockin'.'"

Harry knew that he could ace this assignment based solely on good ol' Duddeykins bragging conquests over the summer before his seventh year. Not that Harry believed one bit of it since his cousin was as big as a whale and no self-respecting girl would want to go out with the jerk. But he was sure he and his cronies had watched enough TV to get the vernacular down correct.

"I want to let you all know, this course will place an emphasis on muggles and muggle traditions, but that is not its sole direction. You will also continue learning English, social sciences, and even muggle sciences such as fish-icks, which is a high level muggle concept of science. To be truthful, I don't really understand it so any of you who wish to pursue it will probably be doing it via owl-course with a ministry employee in the Muggle Relations department.

"As today we are discussing the overview of this entire course and in a few minutes we'll get into the specifics for this year, I want to give you all your own year-end assignment which can be handed in at any time of the year. The earlier the better if you want it graded before you leave. As I said a few minutes ago, this course will also emphasize English skills. This includes writing and reading, and variations of it. I am going to want a list of slang expressions if you continue this course. You may want to begin creating your own dictionary as I will be asking for it in your OWL year.

"Your year-end assignment is to write a story. This is to exercise your creative muscles. I want no less than 7 feet. Any subject is fine. I want you to include muggle references, the more the better. I want to see a beginning, middle and end. Mr. Potter, this includes you as well."

"No problem, Professor. I'm looking forward to it."

Cough "Teacher's pet!" cough

"Excellent reference, Mr. Sloughn. Five points to Ravenclaw. And as an added bonus I'm giving you only an extra assignment of one foot to define what that term means and how it started."

**Charms Class**

Charms began like it had when Harry had been 11 the first time. Introductions, brief overview and then a feather to float. What was different this time around was Professor Flitwick tapping him on the shoulder and asking to join him in his office for a few minutes. Harry did so.

"Mr. Potter, I mean no disrespect to your status of an apprentice, but I am concerned."

"Over what, Professor?"

"Well, forgive me for being blunt, but you've only had your wand for a few months at most and here you are an apprentice to charms? I do not know what addled the sorting hat so but I am concerned that you simply do not have the expertise to handle charms, Mr. Potter."

Harry ruthlessly squashed the irritation he began feeling after being told he wasn't good enough. "Well, I certainly understand your predicament, Professor. Is there anything I can do to allay your concerns?"

"The rest of the class is outside learning to float a feather. Prove to me you can do that on the first go and that will take you far in my eyes," the diminutive professor suggested.

"No problem, Professor." Harry then pulled his wand out and looked at the feather on the full-size desk and commanded, "Upsy-daisy!"

"Mr. Potter, that's… not… how did you do that?"

The feather was not just floating up to the rooftop, it was positioned directly in front of Professor Flitwick's eyes so he wouldn't miss the show.

Harry then motioned his wand to the left and the feather zipped a foot to the left. A sudden jab of the wand to the right had the feather moving to the right. A swirl and the feather spun in a 360 degree where it had again taken position, in front of Professor Flitwick's eyes.

"That wasn't a proper spell, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, I know that it wasn't verbally correct as the rest of the students are learning, but I've already learned to do my spell casting non-verbally. In fact, logically that dictates that even an incantation – even one done mentally – isn't required, and instead all that one needs is will, desire, and imagination. So that's what I've been practicing ever since I got my wand, sir."

Harry knew he was never going to get into heaven with all the lying he was doing.

In the meantime, Professor Flitwick was severely impressed. Non-verbal was partially started sometimes in 6th year, but the theory behind it wasn't even discussed until 7th year.

"Mr. Potter, I refute my previous claim. You are very gifted. If you don't mind, would you please help the other students outside? But please, have them continue with incantations. Not everyone has the intuitive grasp of magic like you do. Well done by the way. Ten points to Gryffindor."

At the end of this class, Longbottom and his cronies confronted Harry after Hermione stepped away to talk with a couple of the other girls.

"So what did you and Professor Flitwick talk about, Potter? How you're going to need remedial training in charms since you couldn't even bother to float a feather today? Hah!"

"Honestly, Longbottom, are you that insecure you have to belittle everyone that doesn't kiss your arse? Doesn't speak too highly of the boy-who-lived now, does it?"

"You can't talk to him like that," said a certain redhead.

"It's okay, Rascal…"

"Ron."

"Whatever. Let him think he's much better than I am. You have a long way to go, Potter. After all, I survived a killing curse. What have you done today?"

"Oh, that's easy," Harry answered without hesitation. "I just had a frank charms theory discussion with our instructor. It was quite interesting. NEWT level you know. Nothing you'd understand. Well… maybe one day you'd get it, possibly, if you had someone to interpret the large words into smaller ones you could understand."

"Theory? Yeah, right," Longbottom sneered. "What kind of theory would you have? We just started magical school. I've at least been tutored for years but the rest of you? I don't think so. If anyone has a theory, it would be me."

"Ooohhh, then let's hear it. What kind of theory do you posit?"

"Huh?"

"Posit. Conjecture. Hypothesize."

"Huh?"

"Come up with? Do you understand those words at least?"

"Of course I do, Potter. My theory is… um… that charms work like jinxes and opposite of curses."

"Good one, Neville," Seamus said, clapping the boy on his back.

"Wow, Longbottom, you think that up all yourself? Or did you get Rascal to help you?"

"It's Ron!"

"Whatever."

"Since you know so much, Potter," Neville returned, "what's your theory then?"

"Well, since you asked, we talked about the nature of charms. We discussed what they are and how they work. We even discussed the reason they are called charms. You know why? No? It's so easy you're going to kick yourself for not thinking of it earlier. They're called charms because you have to charm the magic into letting you use them. I mean why call it Charms when we're dealing with a plethora of spells – curses, jinxes, incantations – over the seven years we'll be in school?"

"You're making that up!" Dean accused.

"Not at all. When you try to do a charm, you have to entice the magic to let you do it. Sometimes you can get an anticipated result by forcing the magic to do what you want, but the easiest, quickest, and most reliable way is to beguile the magic first with some well rehearsed phrases like, 'Hey, magic-baby, where've you been all my life,' or 'Magic-baby, you are looking so fine today!' My personal favorite is: 'Magic-baby, did you lose weight?'"

"And just how are you do get that done and cast a spell at the same time?" Rascal… er… Ron inquired seriously.

"When you get older you start to understand and utilize non-verbal commands. At our age, we need to use sound to make the magic hear our request, so the best way to do it is to whisper that command just before you cast your spell. You'd be surprised at the results you get."

"And how did you come by this source of information?" Seamus wondered.

"Trial and error. Believe me, it took a long time to come to understand this. I'm just trying to help you boys along. And speaking of helping you out, it's time for lunch and I'm hungry. If you'll excuse me?"

Harry left the other boys whispering in the halls as he headed a few feet down the corridor and turned the corner. Around the bend was a familiar sight. Draco Malfoy.

"You've managed to impress me, Potter," Malfoy said quietly as he fell into step with the apprentice.

Harry resisted pulling out his wand. After all, this was just a kid. Not the whack-job he'd terminated a lifetime ago.

"Oh?"

"Charm the magic? Please. You had those buffoons falling for it, but I'm afraid that I've had a few competent tutors in my life."

"Do tell."

"Not that I'll tell anyone else, especially the scourge of the wizarding world, large Longbottom."

"Hmmmm, yes, his ego does need a little deflating," Harry agreed.

"That it does. A good afternoon to you then, Mr. Potter."

"And to you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry replied guardedly.

The two first years split at another intersection as they went towards the Great Hall from different directions. Harry had the distinct impression that Malfoy would be telling his father of him being an apprentice. Harry didn't mind that – it was bound to get out. But was there anything redeemable in young Mr. Malfoy?

He hoped so.

**Defense Against the Dark Arts Class**

"…and t-th-th-th-that concludes what we'll b-b-b-be learning t-t-th-this t-t-term. Questions?"

Harry looked at his watch: it had taken the Quirinus Quirrell nearly 10 minutes to state what the course outline was to be. Harry could have said the same thing in about 30 seconds. Or shorter.

Padma raised her hand. Professor Quirrell pointed towards her. "Sir, why does it smell of garlic in here?"

"D-d-d-d-defense a-a-a-against v-v-v-vampires," he answered. "Others?"

Harry bit his tongue and kept his hand down, away from asking the question of how one goes about willingly letting a parasitic being gain control of ones magical core and thus control all aspects of life. Harry had the distinct impression that Quirrell/Voldemort wouldn't approve of that question.

Interestingly enough, his scar did not hurt. At all. It had healed over the summer to a lightning-bolt white line on his forehead. There was nothing odd about it at all. It was a regular scar.

"F-f-for t-t-the r-r-rest of t-t-the class, I'll r-r-read f-f-from m-muh-my f-f-favorite passage." The professor then reached behind him and pulled out the book assigned for the course and flipped open to a chapter on vampires.

It was going to be a long class. Harry was regretting sitting in the front of the class, even if it was slightly to the side of the rest of the students. He'd chosen it for two reasons: it gave him open viewing of the rest of the class, and sheltered the same class from any spells that might come his way from possessed teachers.

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, Professor Quirrell finished reading the three paragraphs. As one, the Slytherins and Gryffindors turned to him with a questioning glance. Holy crap, Harry thought, they were looking to him to clarify the professor's dialogue.

Well, he wasn't one to disappoint. "Vampires are bad," Harry said to the class.

"Oooohhhhh," they oooohhhhed.

Professor Quirrell looked at the clock and Harry also noticed the class was almost over. Thank GOD!

"A-a-as t-t-t-this is o-o-our f-first c-c-class, I'll l-l-let everyone o-off easy. Read t-t-the f-f-first t-t-three chapters of your b-b-book and w-w-write up t-t-three feet s-s-summarizing w-w-what y-y-you read. Add y-y-your own input d-d-dis-discussing if t-t-the author is r-r-right or w-w-wrong."

_Bastard. Homework like that the first day of class? He really was evil,_ Harry thought.

The bell rang and the students all got up to leave. Harry stayed behind. As the last of the students left, Hermione giving Harry a questioning look but still leaving, Harry approached the nervous professor.

"C-c-can I help you, Mr. P-P-Potter?"

Time to take some offensive. "Absolutely, professor. I wanted to let you know that I find Defense to be the most interesting class so far. I've been reading up on it and have already gotten into next year's coursework. I just wanted to let you know that if you need any help in this class, I am perfectly willing to help. I know it is difficult for you to speak so if you need me to go over any assignments to the class, I can certainly do that."

"I n-n-noticed t-t-the c-c-class looked at y-y-you at the end f-f-for c-c-clarification. Y-y-you c-c-certainly can s-s-summarize. I'll t-t-think about it," the man said vaguely.

"Great, professor. I'm sure I'll be able to help. I'm thinking of a career as a teacher so any experience being a teacher's aide will be invaluable." Harry offered his hand to the turbaned man.

After a moment's hesitation Professor Quirrell shook the hand.

Crap. Nothing happened.

Harry knew right then and there that this Voldemort was different since the protections his original mother left him didn't work on this creature at all.

It would have been nice if the old bastard had burned to death right then and there, but since it didn't happen, he was going to have to take the old murderer down a different way. Not that Harry was bloodthirsty or anything; he just happened to really hate Voldemort, the s-o-b.

**Astronomy Class**

"I don't understand why we have to go to class this late," groused a sour Neville Longbottom.

"Really, Neville," Hermione retorted, "how else are you going to study the stars and constellations?"

"They could always charm the ceiling in the Great Hall to show the night sky," Harry offered. He didn't mind the long walk up the astronomy tower. It helped keep him in shape.

Hermione considered that. "That's true. I guess we could always have classes in the day showing the nighttime sky. I wonder why they don't do that."

"Oh, that's easy," Harry supplied. "The ceiling is set to show the daytime sky, even at night. The only way they could do that was to charm the whole section to continuously stay ahead of the sun as it made its way around the world. So if we were to look at the nighttime sky during the day, we'd be looking at the stars from the other side of the world, _possibly_ still in the Northern hemisphere. I'm not sure if it would be south of the equator or not. I guess it could. It's magic after all."

"So the answer is?" prompted a sneering Neville.

"They don't want to show you any constellations you won't see above your head while you're here," Harry answered.

Wheeze, pant, pant. "But why so late?" Neville complained. Again. "And why aren't you out of breath, Reggie?"

"It's Ron."

"Whatever."

"I do exercise, you know."

"I don't consider exercising your mouth to be true exercise, Reggie," Harry smirked.

"It's Ron."

"You sure?"

"It's been my name for my entire life," replied an angry redhead.

"Well, as long as you're sure. By the way, eating isn't an exercise."

"Have you watched him eat, Harry?" Parvati put in.

"I guess I could be wrong on that," Harry replied to a steaming Ron.

"I play Quidditch you know!" he said hotly.

"Really? What position? Team food taster?"

"Harry, that was rude," interjected Hermione, obviously trying to keep the peace.

"Rude but funny," Harry grinned.

"That's for sure," Lavender said.

"Still, I think you should apologize. This is our first week after all."

"Okay, Hermione. I'll apologize. My comments were out of line, Mr. Weasley. Since it's obvious you shovel your food into your mouth, there's no way you could be a team taster. I'm sure you fill another niche in Quidditch."

Ron wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer but was still a shade sharper than Crabbe or Goyle. Still, he didn't catch the entire reference. "Uh, okay. But make sure it doesn't happen again. Or else. Right Neville?"

"Whatever you say, Reggie."

"It's Ron."

"Whatever."

"You guys know it's Ron, right?" he asked Seamus and Dean.

"Who?"

"So, Harry, what can you tell us about this class?" Parvati asked.

"Yeah, Mr. Apprentice," Lavender put in, "what are we going to have to do?"

"Well, I'd say we're going to look at the stars and locate constellations, and look at planets, and then try to understand the significance of why Jupiter and Mars can look bright some nights and other nights they are dim. Not to mention we might have to investigate the sun's plasma heading towards Earth and the magnetic shield around the planet. This might also lead into some potential for cosmic force lines."

"You're just making that up," said a frowning Hermione. Dean, Seamus, and Reg… er… Ron were also listening in. Neville was a few steps behind, catching his breath, not being used to climbing stair after miserable stair. It was worse than an exercise class his mum had wanted to put him in years ago.

"Why do you say that?" replied Harry.

"I've read the course description and it only mentioned star gazing and constellations. Plus some side work for extra credit. Nothing in there for any sort of plasma magnetic shield thingies. Or cosmic force lines."

"Did you read about any of our later years course material? Keep in mind that muggles only have to take a class like this for maybe one term out of their entire school career. Think about it. What do we have to cover that is going to take years? And for that matter, Parvati, Lavender, think about how this class leads to being a seer. It all interrelates."

"But cosmic force lines? There's no such thing."

"So you haven't seen them yet? You know for sure they don't exist because you haven't seen them?"

"Of course," rebuffed an irritated Hermione.

"Have you seen a dragon?"

"Same thing?" she asked, suddenly understanding.

"Maybe. Parvati, have you heard of force lines?"

"No."

"So they don't exist?" Harry prompted.

"Um, I don't know. You seem to think so, so I think there's a good shot they do exist."

"Maybe we should ask the teacher then. Longbottom? You coming or you just going to puke on the steps down there?"

"Shut it, Potter!"

As it turned out, Professor Aurora Sinistra didn't know about force lines either, and she assigned researching it as a subject for her apprentice only as it wouldn't have been fair to the others since they knew even less than she did and Harry had at least a glimmer of understanding of what astronomy actually was and how it related to some of the other arts taught at Hogwarts. Harry didn't mind the extra assignment: it gave him unrestricted access to the astronomy tower whenever he wanted.

**History of Magic Class**

Over the summer, Harry had thought of this class with dread. It wasn't the fact that he hated history (he loved it as a matter of fact), it was more that he hated the presentation of history given at Hogwarts. It was as dry as dead bread on a summer day in the middle of a desert. Harry braced for the worst when Professor Binns concluded the roll call (monotonously of course) and then gave an outline of what they would be covering this term (goblin rebellions of course). After the brief overview (Voldemort could learn something from the man), Harry was getting ready to put his head down for a nap as Binns started on a rebellion of 912 AD when something totally unexpected happened.

"Okay, class," the ghostly professor began, "it was in mid-June 912 AD when the McAndrews caravan was attacked by a goblin horde, clearly a violation of the Kit-Ahm-Eer Ackord treaty of 910. It happened in the Clun forest in Wales, near the Cambrian Mountains. They were on their way to Newtown when they were attacked."

This is when the really weird, even for wizards and witches, event happened. The classroom began to darken to night and then the light came up as though filtered through the trees of a forest. Harry could see men leading horses and mules on an old trading line. They were wearing vintage clothing, not that there was much difference between the cloaks some wore then to the cloaks people were wearing in Diagon Alley.

At first Harry thought he was having some sort of weird vision but he noticed others in the class responding to the changing environment. It was as if they were watching history unfold.

A total of 10 men were charged with taking the convoy of 34 beasts of burden from one city to another. All of the men carried sticks in their hands of varying sizes, but three of the men carried smaller than normal sticks and didn't use them to prod the mules to move over the rocky terrain.

One of the short-stick men spoke to another. "Jonathan, do you sense it?"

"Aye, Robert, I do. Wards have just gone up. Something is going to happen soon, I can feel it in my bones. Alert young Michael while I make to the front and let Mr. Jurgis know of my misgivings."

"I still think bringing muggles along on this trip was a mistake, Jonathan."

"Perhaps, Robert, but we had no choice if we were to get to Newtown in time. The guild was just too short staffed what with the other attacks from the Spanish to the south and the French to the east."

"After I inform Michael of the wards, I will head to the back to ensure we are not caught from behind."

"Good idea, but…"

The rest of his thought was broken as out from behind trees and bushes came a war-cry and then two dozen goblins ran towards the startled men and pack animals.

"Michael! Protect the supplies! Close quarter hexes only! Robert, bludgers first so you don't tire out. Mr. Jurgis! Archers!"

"Aye, Mr. McAndrews! Archers to the ready! Fire!"

Two men broke away from the frightened animals and reached for the bow slung over their shoulders, then for the satchel of arrows by their hips. Within seconds they had fired… to no effect. The arrows bounced off shields.

"Robert! They've got shields covering them! Fire and ice! Fire and ice! Jurgis! Pull your people back and protect the inventory! We'll handle these beings!"

"Beings?" muttered a startled Jurgis. "More like small monsters with large swords. Hob, Marcus, Peter! Hold the mules! The rest of you weapons out and prepare to fight to the last!"

The goblins whooped and shouted in their own language, which, fortunately, none of the students watching the events unfold understood (there were a lot of good-natured swear words directed at the humans). Then they descended on the caravan, three goblins in the lead with their swords drawn and already in a downward arc.

"Lacarnum Inflamare!" shouted Jonathan McAndrews.

Fire immediately shot out of the wand at the three goblins, hitting their shield but also consuming the oxygen they had within the shield, forcing them back to drop it and get some much needed air. Jonathan immediately followed it up with a freezing spell.

He didn't pause to see if it had any effect on the goblins, instead choosing to battle the ones following them.

Harry noticed the repeated use of fire and ice spells from both older wizards against the goblins. The third man, Michael, stayed behind and used a blasting hex on any goblin that got past those two and headed towards the animals.

The shields caught the first two blasts that he shot and he quickly changed tactics to using the blasts to chew up the dirt in front of them, causing them to trip over the terrain, sometimes to even fall in new holes he created.

The odds being in the goblins' favor, they quickly got a couple skirmishers past the wizards and went towards the caravan. The horses and mules, frightened at all the pyrotechnics flashing about, were even more nervous at the sight of unusual humans.

Two goblins headed for the remaining muggles, swords gleaming and evil smirks on their faces.

"Saints preserve us!" a man called out. "'Tis demons we face today!"

"Aye, Seamus, it is. Now make him pay for taking us to Hell!" With that, Jurgis raised his own blade and brought it down to where the goblin stood. The blade never connected with him, instead stopping about a half meter away, resting on an invisible shield.

"Die, humans!" the goblin muttered, and then jumped back a bit, dropped his shield, allowed the human swords to continue their arc towards the ground, and then pounced forward, slashing at the first man, Seamus.

The goblin sword was made of much finer metal than mere steel and was honed to razor sharpness. Seamus didn't stand a chance and quickly fell to the blade, his body at least falling towards the goblin who needed to pause in his attack to push it aside.

That was all the instant that Jurgis needed to hack at the unholy beast again. This time he wounded it in the arm, causing him to fall back. Regrettably, his friend was near to assist and the same situation began again with the fresh goblin attacking the humans.

Several students near the three muggles guarding the animals heard the one called Hob say, "I'm not surprised at these dark being, Marcus. I'd always heard this here forest was evil."

"True, Hob. But I tell you, if we survive this, I'm going to want a bonus before taking this caravan any further."

The wizards were able to finally drive the small horde off with the strategic use of blasting curses, bludgeoning hexes (once the shields were dropped), and fire spells to set parts of them on fire (mostly directed at those goblins attacking the muggles since they were the most interested in dropping their shields during the fracas).

"By the gods," Robert intoned, a sweaty hand mopping an equally sweaty brow.

"Aye, Robert," Jonathan replied, clapping his fellow wizard on the shoulder. "That was a particularly bloodthirsty bunch. Come, we have much to do. We have driven them off, but I fear they are not gone for good."

"Aye, my friend, I think you are right. Let me check on Michael and then set up a perimeter alert."

"I'll check up on Jurgis and the rest of his men. It looks as if some of the horses have run off. I'll get the remaining muggles on it."

The two men went about their duties. All told, three muggles and a mule were killed in the fighting. Mr. Jurgis was slightly wounded on his right arm but appeared to rally the remaining men to their jobs. "Hob!" Jurgis called. "Track down those remaining horses and get back here as quickly as you can. The rest of you, calm those animals down. They're going crazy with fear."

Hob went in search of the missing pack animals and the image stayed with him as he trekked through the forest and its trees. He followed broken branches and impressions in the muck and grass for nearly a half hour before finding them in a clearing eating some grass.

He calmly walked up and gathered their reins, taking them back to where he'd left the caravan.

He returned to find all his friends and the three strange men dead. Mr. Jurgis was also found, although his head was about two meters away from the rest of his body.

As expected, the cargo was gone. All that is except for the packs on the three horses he had with him.

"They must have come back quicker than expected," he muttered as the scene began to dim, then grew dark, then the light of the classroom flickered back to life as if nothing had happened.

"And thus, the only remaining survivor of the McAndrews team returned back to Aberystwyth and reported all that had happened." Harry wasn't sure, but it appeared that the professor was showing just a little bit of emotion. Possibly shock or elation. It was hard to tell.

"It was never proven that goblins finished off the McAndrews crew, but evidence points that way as their cargo ended up in the markets within several months and was sold by goblin merchants in France. This in turn led to a boycott of 913 AD in Meaux which we'll discuss next time. For homework, please read chapter one of your texts. Mr. Potter, please remain behind while everyone else may leave."

Hermione was still in a little bit of shock after seeing that much close quarter combat and, white-faced, looked at Harry. He noticed her appearance and softly said, "Go to the common room. Ask a prefect for something called a Calming Drought for all the students here. They may need to go to the school nurse, Madame Promprey. Tell them what happened. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Uh… okay, Harry."

She and the others left, almost all of them looking a bit nauseous.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry said to the ghost.

A real emotion flashed across the ghostly image and he smiled at his student. "Mr. Potter, I cannot tell you how extraordinarily pleased I am to have you in my class. I wasn't sure until we started the history lesson if you were capable of it, but I can see my ability to read auras still exists in my death."

"Sir?"

"Mr. Potter, you are what we call a natural channeler. In this case, you can channel history as easily as a muggle can fall down stairs since they don't believe in cushioning charms. Odd that. Anyway, it has been a long time since I've seen anyone channel history as effortlessly as you did today. And the images you procured were top notch. Why, the only person I thought could do it that well was myself when I was alive.

"As an apprentice, I would be very grateful if you considered taking history through your NEWTs. Who knows, if you pass your NEWTs, and I have every assurance you will, my work on helping another channeler reach their potential will be done and I can move on. I have waited a long time to find someone who can help others understand history like I once did. And you, Mr. Potter, are going to help this class immeasurably.

"And just you wait until we get to the real juicy goblin rebellions. Now that's going to be some action in the making. And to think, we can see all of that first hand thanks to Hogwarts' newest apprentice."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

**Potions Class**

As surprising as his History class had turned out to be, the real shock of the week had actually come from his time in Potions.

Instead of Ron sitting by Hermione, Harry took that position. Ron was a major screw up in this world, and probably would have been as big of one back home had it not been for his riding Hermione's efforts. Harry couldn't see how he was friends with that idiot. He was now hanging out with Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Harry had a feeling that Ron was going to be in the shadows for a very long time with his continued association with Longbottom – which considering all things was a good place for him since he was only a minor sidekick.

This dimension showed Harry how Ron took things from his point of view in their first year. Ron really was quite the jealous prat. He wondered how things would play out if Ron never got to know Hermione. Something he was working on ensuring would never pass. Everyone saw how Neville and his buddies tried to act as if they owned the school by flaunting to everyone that he was the Boy-Who-Lived and by pushing other first years around like he was the king bully of Hogwarts.

But the worst thing of all was that other students were buying into this act and allowing him to get away with his intimidations. Even some second years were following the orders he gave.

There were a few exceptions to every rule in each house. It seems that Pam and Edward in Hufflepuff were ignoring him as were a few people in Ravenclaw and especially Draco Malfoy of Slytherin. Harry was the only first year boy currently in Gryffindor who didn't toe the line to Longbottom's beck and call.

Harry didn't really even care for the other boys. He was polite and all (except when he was insulting), but for the most part, he kept his distance. No, he wanted to and kept his friendship with exactly one person so far: Hermione Granger.

Potions class was much the same way Harry remembered it being. Snape angrily stomped into class, his robes swirling behind him as his greasy hair nearly obscured his contemptuous gaze of the students. Much like the rest of the professors, he gave his opening speech of no wand waving, subtleties of potions, brew fame, and all that rot. Harry didn't much pay attention. He really wasn't going to be taught anything by this yahoo for the next seven years anyway.

Instead, Harry wondered what spell he could use to get his robes to swirl like that when he walked.

Once Snape's introductory speech was over, it was time for his yearly critique. An example of his bias more than a critique of a student's abilities was more accurate Harry knew.

"Ah, yes," Snape said giving an evil smile to his intended target, "our new celebrity." The room had divided up like Harry thought it would: Slytherins on one side, the Gryffindors on the other. Two to a cauldron. Harry had teamed up with Hermione not to peek at her work, but in order to bolster her confidence. Not that she needed it for her coursework, but she certainly needed it in friendship.

Professor Snape surveyed the Gryffindors with a glare, noticing that most of the students couldn't help but cringe except for that annoying apprentice, Potter. The brat had the gall to simply stand his ground and stare back.

"Longbottom! What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape said suddenly, changing the direction of who to intimidate first: the apprentice or the Boy-Who-Lived.

Neville Longbottom immediately began to stutter. "Er… um… ahh… er…"

"Don't know? Let's try again Longbottom. Where would you look if I told you to find me a Bezoar?" Snape sneered while his Slytherin's sniggered. Malfoy gave the Gryffindors an evil grin. His godfather was out for blood today.

Hermione shot her hand up and began waving madly. Harry immediately gave a look that said "don't" and she reluctantly lowered her arm, glaring at him at the same time.

"In the Forbidden Forest?" Neville suggested meekly.

"Incorrect! Five points from Gryffindor. Tell me, Mr. Longbottom, did you think you shouldn't open a book before coming?" Snape sneered.

Neville remained quiet, other than for the red fury in his cheeks and the narrowing of his eyes. Harry simply shook his head slightly, thinking that even for Neville, the jerk-who-lived, that wasn't exactly playing fair. But still, that ponce needed to be taken down a peg or two.

Professor Snape noticed the smirk out of the corner of his eye and quickly said, "Mr. Potter, how about you? Something tells me you must know since you are, after all, an apprentice."

"Since you do not _know_, Potions _Master_,and need help _answering_ it, I'll gladly enlighten you. Asphodel and wormwood would a sleeping potion so powerful... it is called the 'The Draught of Living Death.' A real nasty piece of work that should be used on Death Eaters if you want to know my opinion."

"Which we don't, Potter. Keep to the answer at hand. Oh, and five points from Gryffindor for giving an unasked opinion."

"Whatever you say, pops. _Anyway_, a Bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons, _professor_," this last was said mockingly. "Several that it won't save you from is Draught of Living Death, C-K, or better known as Clumsiness Kills, and also the poisoning of minds from particularly bad potions lessons."

The class had gone silent. Harry had just crossed a line, and everyone could sense it. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who were used to talking to one another with monosyllabic grunts and eyebrow contortions understood what had just happened.

In the Headmaster's office, a paperweight that also doubled as a tension meter that was specifically localized around his potion master, went off with a loud blurble-blurble-blurble, and normally Headmaster Dumbledore would have raced to that part of the castle to keep his Death-Eater spy from severing the life of a student (that would certainly entail a lot of needless paperwork for both parties involved anyway)… but, alas, he was off using the potty so didn't hear any blurbling from his glowing blue paperweight that had, ironically enough, been a gift from one of his favorite students, that prankster in charge, James Potter.

Hermione's emotions jockeyed with one another for position in her head. She was angry at Harry, elated that someone had stood up to that horrid professor and his demeaning ways of attacking that poor Neville, sorry that Neville didn't get more of a tongue lashing, upset that someone had demeaned a professor, confused by a few of the implications, and royally ticked at herself for not writing any of Harry's answers down.

Draco Malfoy had been prepped most of his life to take over the family business of intimidating people. He grew up in a household that could look up the word Love in a dictionary and tell you what it meant, but they were helpless in showing any sort of meaning of the word. Due to that, any true affection he felt was hoarded jealously. His godfather had once given him a potions set with the instructions to not blow up the house. Perhaps he'd read more into the wink the man had given him at the same time, but he always thought he understood people enough to know that the wink signified acceptance. And now here was this other kid his own age basically telling off the man who had accepted him a couple years ago. That just wouldn't do.

Professor Snape in all of this looked upon the son of his arch-nemesis in a cold fury. Oh, how he wanted to wring that Potter neck. To kick that Potter in the ribs a few times, to cast a few Crucios. Instead, he slowly began to calm down while at the same time saying, "And what would you know about potion making, Potter? Ingrates like yourself more than likely follow in the father's footsteps and as I know him, he was absolutely rubbish at potions. He barely escaped with a T in his OWL year."

"Oh, I know all about potion making, professor," Harry said back in his happy voice (which had the benefit of really sticking it to the "man" – which considering, the "man" in this case, was one Severus Snape). "It's not hard at all. It's a lot like cooking. Well, not like the House Elves here, but like I do at home. Why, I remember just this summer reading the first year book and getting a laugh out of this. I mean, some of the steps must have been written down, what, about a thousand years ago and no one has ever tried to update or modernize it? I mean, come on. There have been advances made, haven't there? Or what, is the title of a potions master just someone who remembers a cookbook verbatim? You do research sometime don't you? After all…"

"SILENCE!" Professor Snape snapped. "You will not talk unless I specifically allow it! Is that understood, Potter?"

Harry didn't say anything and Professor Snape's ire only grew. The boy simply looked at him a smirk and then he had the gall to wink at him.

Draco Malfoy saw the wink but didn't understand its implications this go around. Had Potter just accepted his godfather into something? He needed more information that was for sure.

"I mean it, Potter! Not one word!"

Wink.

"Stop that!"

Wink, wink.

His ire clearly on the rise again, Professor Snape looked at the rest of the class and began the day's lesson of brewing… "What is it, Potter?" he asked the brat with the hand raised.

"By Hogwarts rule, article 4, section 2, paragraph 1, it says students who gives a Professor the correct answer are to be given points when said Professor asks the student a question. You are breaking that rule, Professor. Do I not get points for my House for answering your_ advance questions_?" Harry asked in a professional tone while giving him a cool look.

Almost imperceptibly, a twitch spasmed once under the potion master's left eye. A minute went by as the man's breathing was brought under control and his wrath calmed to a simmering rage. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. He looked like he was fighting a mental battle in what to do. Finally... he spoke.

"Ten Points to Gryffindor. Now why aren't you all writing this down?!" Snape spat out and then turned around to sulk so they couldn't see.

"Thanks, pops!"

"That's professor to you, ingrate," Professor Snape sneered with a patented sneer.

"Whatever you say, Professor Pops. But are we going to learn anything today because if not, I have other things I can be doing. Not that I'm trying to get out of class, after all like I said before, I like cooking. And today's recipe I can see you have written on the board under the concealment glamour looks like it might take a person… what? About 20 minutes to cook up? Hey, that's great, 'cause it'll give me plenty of time to cook something else up. Something challenging."

"SILENCE! What did I say about staying quiet in class?!"

"What? You were serious about that? I mean, seriously, make up your mind. Say, you don't look so good. Do you want me to cover your class? I mean, it's just cooking. And I did take Home Economics last year, so I know my way around a kitchen."

"Potions laboratory," the older man grunted out.

"Feh, I'll call it what I want."

That's it! That was the LAST BLOODY STRAW! "You want to teach them, Potter?! Fine! Go ahead. Here's today's lesson the board. Potter is your instructor. Everyone will turn in a complete potion by the end of class. If any of them fail to measure up, then the entire class fails the assignment for the day. Enjoy your fame, Potter."

Professor Snape then strode into his office and slammed the door closed. Walking behind the desk, he sat heavily and then opened a drawer to pull out a bottle of Fire whiskey.

Just shy of an hour later (and three calming shots down), Snape barreled his way back into class to see how that whelp had done instructing his (HIS!) students in the fine art of potion making.

The first thing he noticed was that there was a distinct lack of exploded cauldrons that usually followed the first year of potion students. Everyone was concentrating over simmering cauldrons and surprising enough, they were all stirring counterclockwise at the same time.

That arrogant snot, Potter, was walking between rows and making sure to correct a few elbows and stir positions, insinuating they actually meant something. Actually, he knew they did, but that was something he'd bring to their attention in the next lesson when he went over their potions. He noticed that brat actually help show another student the proper way of slicing, dicing, and in lastly, how to properly crush an ingredient.

"Potter! Where's your potion? I'll grade that first," the man practically seethed, his face going flush.

"Sure thing, Professor Pops. Hermione and I finished it about 10 minutes ago. It's on your desk. Properly labeled I might add even though you didn't mention anything about that. Don't worry, I made sure to let everyone know how to go about doing it so they won't be mixed up. Wouldn't want that to happen, but it probably won't be an issue since all the potions are being brewed correctly. Even Vincent's and Gregory's potions are within acceptable limits."

"All thanks to you, Harry," Parvati smiled at him.

"No, it was all thanks to everyone in this room's efforts, Parvati."

"Harry, you're just too nice; this class was easy just like you said," Lavender said, bottling up hers and Parvati's potion.

"With exceptional students like everyone here, you can all make a teacher, even a teacher's aide like myself, look good. I want you to know I'm proud of you all. Even you, Longbottom. This was a great class and all of you brewed your first potion ever. And the skills you learned today will help you in next class."

"Potter! Quit trying to teach my class!"

"Well someone should," Harry returned with another wink. "I mean, after all you're not bothering to. Hey, is that scowl permanent? I mean I'm only asking so I know what to look forward to when I stay with the Slytherins in a few weeks to test the atmosphere of that house, so to speak."

"Potter, you insufferable know-it-all! Don't try to sully my class with your idiotic teaching methods!"

"I have a hard time understanding you, Professor Snape. On one hand you claim that Potions is the hardest of all magical studies we will have here at Hogwarts and on the other hand you besmirch my character for making it interesting to your students. If it's hard, why shouldn't it be interesting? I mean, cooking is hard but I still make that interesting."

"Potions _is not cooking_!" Professor Snape retorted with his anger again on the rise.

"Sure it is. Different ingredients, but overall the process is much the same."

"Potions requires exact measurements and attention to detail, brat!"

"So does cooking, you greasy bat."

The two glared at each other for a full minute as the rest of the class got very uneasy and wondered if they were going to pull wands on one another any time soon. Draco still didn't understand the winking that had gone on earlier between Potter and his godfather. Was this some sort of friendship bonding that he was unaware of? He'd have to look up winking clarifications once he got back to his room and had a chance to pull out that muggle book, Winking for Dummies.

"In fact," Harry finally broke the glaring stalemate, "I bet you don't even understand the nuances of cooking. A great big potions master who couldn't make a sandwich to save his life. Some professor you are."

"I can cook, Potter. I choose not to," Professor Snape said haughtily.

"Prove it. Put your money where your mouth is. Put up or shut up as the muggles say."

Trapped by his own tongue, Snape narrowed his eyes and seethed in anger while muttering, "And just how do you suggest I prove it? You want me to make a baloney sandwich now?"

"Hardly, potions master. A man such as yourself should have more than just rudimentary skills in sandwiches. No, I was thinking we have a cooking competition. I choose something for you to make, you choose something for me to make. Each person supplies the other person's ingredients. Agreed?"

"If I do cooking, then you have to do potions since that is, what did you say? That it is just like cooking I believe you commented."

"Agreed," Harry replied instantly.

"Two weeks from today. After classes have ended for the day. Great Hall so everyone can see the great Potter fall on his face in disgrace."

"Agreed. I'm sure we can get together a panel of impartial judges to review our work. The one with the better product will be declared the winner."

"Agreed. I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore can be persuaded to head the panel," Professor Snape said silkily since he was sure the headmaster would back his favorite potions teacher.

"Agreed. Stakes?"

"This is your idea, what do you suggest?"

"If I win, you acknowledge my prowess as an upcoming potions master in public and accord me all rights as a full apprentice. That means unrestricted access to all potion ingredients at any time."

"And if I should win this little competition of yours?"

"I will foreswear my apprenticeship in potions for the remainder of my stay here at Hogwarts."

Professor Snape deliberated it around in his mind for a few seconds before saying, "Agreed. And to show you I mean to take this competition seriously, you are to brew without fail… Veritaserum. Unless of course you wish to capitulate now?"

"In your dreams, you greasy git. That's a hard potion to brew, but I'm sure I can muddle though. You however, are to cook one of the hardest things in all creation. Well, in your world anyway."

"And what would that be, Potter? Toast?"

"Not even close. You will cook… Snickerdoodles, from scratch."

Severus Snape's face went blank as one thing went through his head: _What the hell were Snickerdoodles?_

**Great Hall, Friday, Lunch**

By the time the bell ran and Potions class was thankfully over, Professor Snape had managed to find fault with something minor of Neville's and deducted 15 points. It didn't matter that Vincent's and Gregory's worktable had been even messier than Ron and Neville's, it was the spirit of the fault that mattered: no points given to Gryffindor could be left un-deducted if Slytherin were to win the house cup.

Harry shook his head and had finished helping the other students bottle their potions, marking the bottles with names, dates, potion name, and class level. Harry then walked back to his table and with Hermione they made their way to the Great Hall and lunch.

While looking for something that didn't show any signs of hair or dirt, Harry overheard frantic whispers throughout the Hall. Not surprisingly, they were whispering about him and how he had essentially told off Professor Snape, gotten points by doing it, and had also instituted a potion/cooking competition in two weeks time.

All Harry could think of is that if these people considered this big news, they really needed to get a working TV in the common rooms.

Looking around, Harry caught McGonagall looking at him and then she gave him a small rare smile. Harry smiled back cheerfully and bit into a turkey sandwich.

Student whispering eventually died down and newspapers were pulled out alongside texts as some students preferred to spend the time reading vs. gossiping. Hermione was reading a paper when she let out a very low gasp.

"What is it, Hermione?"

She said nothing but gave him the Daily Prophet.

The lead story had been about the break in at Gringotts. Harry had remembered the break in, but had thought it had happened later in the school year. Like the second or third week of school. Not sure why he thought that since Quirrell would have known to start working on school defenses at the outset of the year to protect the stone, but he wasn't shocked in any event. This was old/new news, or new/old news.

"How about that? Someone tried to break in at Gringotts. Wonder what they were looking for?"

"Harry, the article says they only went after one vault and it was empty. Whatever was in it was probably taken."

"Not if it were removed first," Harry gave a knowing grin, turning the page to his horoscope.

He didn't see Hermione's gaze on him intensify. Harry knew something, she was sure. She just needed to find out what. And to find out what he knew about Occulmency. She hadn't found the how-to books on it yet and she wanted to be proficient using it by Christmas. After all, he was the same age as her – and it just shouldn't be that hard to learn if he could do it.

A few minutes later, the sandwich gone, Harry looked up at the head table. There was Snape talking with Headmaster Dumbledore and Harry could lip read enough to see he was trying to find out what Snickerdoodles were. His gaze went past them to his target: Quirrell. The man was eating very little from his plate, constantly looking around. His eyes constantly looked towards the Gryffindor table and Harry knew he was tracking Longbottom's movements.

Harry caught the DADA professor's eyes and waved. The man timidly waved back, thinking that this was a suck-up move from a student with too much time on their hands.

Harry's thoughts were more sinister and if the man could have broken his mind shield, he would have read: _Hiya, ya bastard. I'm gonna kill ya if it's the last thing I do. Or that Neville does, I reckon._

**Astronomy Tower (10:15pm) Friday **

Harry finished the contemplation of his first week. All in all it had been a success and cemented his role as an apprentice. He could appear knowledgeable without it seeming out of character. Now all he had to do maintain the charade he'd begun and then save the world from a dark wizard who didn't have the good grace to die when he should have. After all, there was absolutely no way on God's green Earth he was going to allow that wanker to live and threaten his family. Little Lily deserved more of a life than what he espoused.

Looking around the tower again, Harry decided it was time to blow off a head of steam before his suppressors began to tingle at the amount they were repressing. That, and students would begin showing up in another hour to begin the night's class. Thinking it would be nice to see Hawaii again, Harry calmly walked into an especially dark shadow against a wall and promptly disappeared.

Had Harry been able to see what was going on in the Headmaster's office, he would have been made aware that his comings and goings weren't as silent and as unsupervised as he would have wanted. On the shelf near Dumbledore's desk sat a small mirror that was propped up on legs. As Harry shadowed to a volcano in the Hawaiian islands, the mirror chimed, alerting Albus that a student had just gone missing from the school grounds.

Rising, Albus approached the mirror. "Show me," he commanded. The mirror obliged and Harry's face appeared on the mirror as the missing student.

"Hmmm," Albus muttered softly. "I wonder why our resident apprentice needs to sneak out to Hogsmeade on a Friday night? What is he looking for?"

"Trouble, old friend?" a painting said over the Headmaster's shoulder.

"Nothing too much, Armando. A student has gone missing from school grounds."

"Hrumph! He's probably gone to the pub to get something to drink. Young whipper-snappers these days don't have any respect for the rules."

"Had the student been a 7th year, I would have agreed, but this is an 11-year old. I wonder what he wants in the village?"

"An 11-year old wandering around Hogsmeade? Send your groundskeeper after him to drag him back and then hand him over to Filch. That should teach him some lessons."

"Armando, he's an apprentice. He does have more rights to be about than normal students. Especially those of his age."

"But… Albus, he's 11-years old!"

"That he is, my friend. That he is. And apprentice or not, he is not an adult in any sense of the word. We need to keep an eye on him first to see what he is up to. His father was a master prankster in his day, and it is possible he is following in his footsteps. We shall see."

"I still think Filch would put him right."

"I think Filch would use an Iron Maiden if he had his way, Armando."

**Potter home (8:00am, breakfast) One week later**

"James?"

"Yes, dear?" James replied looking for some of that elusive muggle cereal that his daughters had taken to stashing in the kitchen.

"We just got a letter from Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Already? What kind of trouble is Harry in? I thought he was the good kid and we wouldn't have to wait for a letter like that until Leon went."

"I'm not sure, honey. You don't think he's been hurt, do you?"

"Harry? Until this summer I didn't think he had an adventurous bone in his body, but now… I'm not sure. Have you seen any Fruit Loops lately?"

"No, honey. Do you want me to whip up a breakfast for you?"

"No! I mean, don't put yourself out, sweetie. I'll just grab a quick bite in the office. Sorry for leaving you with the kids this morning, but the director is calling in all shifts to placate the goblins. So what does the letter say?"

"Oh, James, it's about Harry's progress as an apprentice. Here. You read."

_Dear Mr. & Mrs. Potter,_

_I want to start out that we at Hogwarts are very happy to have Harry here at school. He is an amazing student and apprentice. Already he has given invaluable assistance in all of his classes. Students look up to his leadership and knowledge. I wanted to allow each of his teachers to give you a quick synopsis of Harry's first two weeks here at school. _

_**Professor McGonagall:**__ Harry is very helpful to the rest of the classes. Even though he is now rooming in the Hufflepuff dorm, he still attends transfiguration with the Gryffindors and helps out in every lesson to those students who are having a difficult time grasping the nuances of the subject. Harry does not have any difficulty with any of the subject matter yet. We had a meeting last week to go over his skill level and he is certainly more advanced than he is letting on. Congratulations, James, he is taking after you._

_**Professor Flitwick:**__ Harry has been instrumental in getting several students to improve their ability in charms, even though they now have an odd way of starting any charm work by what they say is "propositioning the magic". As long as it gets results, that is all that matters. Harry consistently exceeds all expectations and if I wasn't sure he was 11, I'd say he was a 7__th__ year. Congratulations, Lily, he is taking after you._

_**Professor Sinistra:**__ Harry has shown great interest in the subject and has been on the astronomy tower doing research just about every night. He is currently doing his year-end assignment of researching force lines and has not missed a regular assignment yet. He is able to pick out constellations with ease and I fear this class may be too easy for him. Congratulations on raising such a fine, intelligent boy both of you._

_**Professor Quirrell:**__ For a first year with no practical knowledge of the world, he might survive if vampires were to attack. But I wouldn't count on it._

_**Professor Sprout:**__ I am simply amazed at the kind of skill level young Mr. Potter is able to display when working with plants. He definitely has a green thumb. You must have some nice gardens if the skill level he shows is any indicator. I am very pleased to have him in class. _

_**Professor Bark:**__ Congratulations on raising a son with so much practical knowledge of the muggle world. He has proven himself invaluable in several of my classes, clearly able to debunk those pesky myths about muggles and their love of kitchen appliances._

_**Professor Binns:**__ Astounding. Your son is simply astounding. He is able to channel history much like I was able to later in my life when I was still alive. Your son shows all the earmarks of being a master channeler. And he is still only 11! Unbelievable. You must be proud of your son. I suspect that when he's properly dead he will be able to remain behind like I have to train the next channeler. I can see a bright light in my future!_

_**Professor Snape:**__ Your son should be expelled for insulting an instructor. And the competition he's arranged? Ridiculous. Your brat couldn't brew veritaserum to save his life. And apparently after I beat him at this little game, I will be able to prove once and for all that all Potters are nothing but attention seeking prats! Especially upstart 11-year olds that think they know everything like their rotten fathers!_

_Ah, well, most of your son's professors are pleased as punch to have Harry in their classes. I certainly think that Harry's presence here at Hogwarts has greatly added to the overall learning environment and look forward to his assistance for years to come._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts_

"I don't remember my folks getting a letter like this when I was a first year," James commented, finishing reading.

"Didn't you set a toilet seat on fire during your first week in school back then?" Lily commented, never having forgotten the incident, especially since she had been heading for that seat just before it went up in a blaze of glory (as it were).

"Heh, heh, oh yeah. Um. I mean, I don't remember that at all. Say, Lily, have you lost weight?"

A/N: And thus ends chapter 4. I am currently working on Chapters 5 and 6 and hope to have them out sooner rather than later. As for possible pairings, here's the tally so far:

**Ron + Millicent 1**

**Neville + Giant Squid 1**

**Draco + Hermione 1**

**Harry + Susan Bones 11**

**Harry + Jasmine 111111**

**Harry + Hermione 11111111**

**Harry + Luna 111111111**

**Harry + Tonks 11**

**Harry + Lavender 1**

**Harry + Daphne 1**

**Harry + Fleur 1**

**Harry + harem 1**

Luna has taken the lead by one vote. I'm kind of intrigued by the idea of Neville and the Giant Squid, but other than for comic relief, I don't see it happening. For one thing, Neville doesn't have enough appendages (even if they were the correct length) to interest the squid. Surprisingly, one or two votes might even happen. Not telling anyone which though. And it won't happen soon as Harry is just too young and I'm not into that kind of story.

Thanks again everyone for Reviewing, I really do appreciate it.


	6. Chapter 5: History, Schmistory

**Disclaimer****: Not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling.**

I would like to thank all the reviewers who left notes on the last chapter. The final pairing tallies are:

**Ron + Giant Squid (2)**

**Ron + Lavender (1)**

**Ron + Millicent (3)**

**Neville + Giant Squid (9)**

**Neville + Mrytle (1)**

**Draco + Hermione (1)**

**Harry + Blaise (fem) (1)**

**Harry + Cho (1)**

**Harry + Daphne (6)**

**Harry + Fleur (11)**

**Harry + harem (15)**

**Harry + Hermione (40)**

**Harry + Hermione + Luna (6)**

**Harry + Hermione + Luna + Jasmine (2)**

**Harry + Jasmine (28)**

**Harry + Lavender (3)**

**Harry + lots, but 1 at time (1)**

**Harry + Luna (56)**

**Harry + Millicent (1)**

**Harry + Susan Bones (3)**

**Harry + Tonks (7)**

**Harry + young professor (1)**

I wanted to let you all know that a couple of these will be implemented at some point. And at least one of these will be used quite a bit later in the story. I'm not telling which one it is other than to say it won't happen for a few "years" in the timeline. C'mon, let's face it, these are still kids we're talking about and mostly aren't thinking of dates. Except maybe Parvati but that's neither here nor there since she's not a main character.

Also, this ends this type of tally. I'm sure I'll have another one in the future, and you are free to tell me what you want as a pair-up, but I won't be tallying it any longer.

Special thanks to Cathy-Ann for supplying me the recipe for Snickerdoodles. I think I'm going to have to work you into the story.

I have to admit I'm very appreciative of all the positive reviews. This story had actually been the first one I wanted to rewrite, but I did have in mind two others I could have given a shot but for various reasons chose not to try them. They are: A New World by Finbar, and Harry Potter and the Ancients Power (which was his second in the series following his Harry Potter and the Stargate story) by Shezza88. I am hoping that one day Shezza88 will pick that story back up and continue it. And maybe Finbar will continue his story as well.

A question has been raised on whether or not any more will be written on the alternate-Harry in prime-Harry's world. The answer is: Yes. But not anytime soon. I would say more, but I fear I would give away too much in potential plot. Suffice to say, the title of this story does mean something.

One last thing: I know I said I had plots for about the next 30 chapters written down. I want to revise that. After giving it careful consideration, I have figured out how to merge another story I was going to do with this one so I have about 50 chapters, 20 still in my head, but at least the ideas have been written down… somewhere. So it looks like I may be working on this longer than I thought. Especially since I was supposed to be at the winter break in this chapter and that isn't going to happen for a few more chapters. Ah well, hope you are all enjoying the ride since it's going to take longer to get where I'm headed.

Chapter 5: History, Schmistory – Fall Term Year 01 

**Sunday afternoon**

Harry noticed plenty that week. First was reading about the break-in at Gringotts as Voldemort (Harry knew) had gone after the Philosopher's Stone. Speculation had run rampant as to what and who had tried to get into the bank, but no one knew what had been taken and the bank wasn't saying, simply giving the story that the contents had been moved earlier. Harry didn't dwell on it since he already knew full well who had done what. And he didn't much particularly care for how the maniac had done it: he wasn't planning a career of robbing banks anytime soon.

Second and more immediate was Neville Longbottom's stuck up attitude and rowdy allusions that he was the cream of the wizarding crop that year and that anyone who was listening would be hard pressed to find a better role model. The older students who had been a little anxious to meet the killing curse survivor quickly began to keep their distance after listening to him go on and on about himself. It bothered Harry on a certain level that some of his fellow first-years were actually buying into that load of rubbish he was spewing.

Draco Malfoy was not one of those and took every opportunity to point out Longbottom's shortcomings, real or imagined. The only real difference between the two, Harry thought, was that Draco was actually smarter and knew not to push Harry.

This Draco was not like his last one: that was for certain. While both Dracos were smart, this one actually used his intelligence instead of sounding like a recruiting poster for the dumb and stupid. Other than the one time they'd talked, Malfoy had yet to corner him in a secluded hallway or in a crowded room and present his hand in friendship like Longbottom had done several times. That was a good thing since it saved Harry laughing straight in his face. Again, like what had happened with Longbottom.

Earlier that day Harry had talked with Professor Sprout and informed her he was going to move into the boy's rooms for a few weeks and check things out there. Professor Sprout had been pleased and gave him the password and directions to the tower. Then, after directing a house-elf to move his trunk, Harry made his way down to the room to check on his other friends, Edward and Pam.

He didn't find either one there and was told by a 6th-year prefect, Cathy-Ann Westbrook that most of the first years could be found studying in the Great Hall or out in the courtyards since it was still warm in the year. On his way to find them, he was interrupted by the aggravated form of one Neville Longbottom.

"Potter? Leaving? I noticed your things were gone. And here I was going to give you one last chance to take my hand in friendship. Guess I don't have to bother now that you're leaving like a loser," he sneered. The other boys chuckled at the slight.

"I'm touched that you were checking up on me, Longbottom. But don't worry your little head about it, I'm not going far. I'll be with the Hufflepuffs for a few weeks in case you need me to come read you a bedtime story."

"Watch it, Potter," Dean snapped for his friend. "Don't go mouthing off to your better!"

"Are my parents here?" Harry asked innocently.

"Me, you idiot!" Neville exclaimed.

"You? You're no one's better. Not Dean's, Ron's, the Giant Squid, Lavender's, Peeves, let alone mine. What have you done recently to prove you're my better?"

"I survived the killing curse!"

"So you keep saying. How about you do something for both of us and just shut your trap before I do it for you."

"You're a cur, Potter. A lowly cur who needs to understand his role in society. Now that you're going to the Puffs, where is it going to stop? Will you be going to the Snakes next?"

"Maybe. That or the claws."

"You have no house loyalty," Ron muttered darkly.

"Actually, I'm an apprentice so it's not incumbent on me to have house loyalties. Instead, I have loyalty to Hogwarts as a whole. Works out a lot better that way."

"We'll be seeing you then, Potter," Longbottom pushed his way past their former roommate. Harry allowed them their moment: after all, they were only kids. Misguided, but still kids.

As Harry started up the hall, a familiar visage fell into step with him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," Draco said, keeping up.

"And a good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy. Tell me, do you always hide in unused classes on Sunday afternoons?"

"Not really. I was practicing some spells and couldn't resist an opportunity to eavesdrop. So is it true you are becoming a Puff for awhile?"

"Yes."

"Then allow me to congratulate you. I personally wouldn't be caught dead in there, but that's me and not you."

"Why Draco, that insult was almost a compliment. You must be slipping," Harry smirked.

Malfoy took no umbrage. "Perhaps. I look forward to seeing you in the Slytherin common room. It should prove… enlightening."

Harry's eyebrow shot up. "You mean entertaining, don't you? Is the enlightening part before or after the hazing rituals you Slytherins engage in?"

"You wound me, Potter, you really do. For you, no hazing rituals."

"I take it you're just going to start with the hexes and curses as soon as I come in then?"

"Perhaps. You are after all a closet Gryffindor."

"Goodbye, Draco."

"Till next time, Mr. Potter."

**Sunday Night, Potter residence (Harry/Leon's room, night)**

Leon finished putting on his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. He had to hand it to Harry, that had been an interesting lock he'd put on his door, but he knew he'd eventually be able to break it. Nothing Harry'd done over the years could compete with him. So Harry was now an apprentice of sorts at Hogwarts. Just wait till he went there. Then there'd be two apprentices. Only they'd have a pranking apprenticeship. Yeah. That'd be great. Maybe get Zonko's to do a training course or something. Then…

As Leon walked back in the room, he'd turned off the light and went to bed. Suddenly a dark hand shot out from under the bed and grabbed Leon's ankle, trying to drag him under the bed.

"Aaaahhhhh!!! Mom! Dad! Help! Aaaahhhh!!"

Leon's cries awoke several of the girls who had gone to bed earlier as his mother and father rushed into his room.

"What is it, honey?" Lily inquired, turning the light on.

The arm immediately withdrew under the bed. Leon saw only a quick movement but he'd seen enough.

"There's something under my bed! It attacked me!"

"Ssshhhh, there, there, honey. James, you'd better take a look."

James withdrew his wand and pushed the bedspread up onto the bed so he could get a better look. He shot a beam of light out from his wand under the bed. After a moment, "Oh. My. God."

"What is it, dad?"

"Come over here, you little… ahh, gotcha." James Potter calmly got up from the floor and looked his son in the eyes. Shelia and Rose were at the door looking nervous.

"Leon, what did your mother and I say about eating in your room? This," here he held up a rotting banana peel, "is not something I want to have spoiling our floor, mister. What happen, you slip on it while getting into bed?"

"No, dad, I don't know how that got there. I don't eat in my room. Well, hardly anything that's good for me that is. But I swore I heard something from under my bed saying that I was next. And there was this big black arm trying to drag me under."

"Really, Leon," Rose commented, her eyebrows raised. "A monster under the bed? Aren't you just a little too old for one of those?"

"Leon," his father said looking the boy in his eyes, "there's nothing under there. It must have been your imagination."

His breathing returned to normal, Leon looked at this father, mother and siblings. An awkward smile later, he grinned and said, "I guess you're right. I must've slipped on the banana peel. I could have sworn it was so real though. Oh well."

"False alarm, folks," James used his Captain-voice. "Time to move along now. Nothing to see here that you haven't seen somewhere else before. Okay, young ladies, let's get you back to your room."

"Okay, dad," Shelia acknowledged.

The family (minus Leon) moved out of the room. Once gone, Leon closed the door and then went back to the bed and looked under it for himself. There was nothing there just like his dad had said. Shaking his head over nothing, Leon turned off the lights again and walked back to the bed.

Suddenly a dark arm shot out from under the bed and grabbed his ankle again.

"Aaaahhhhh!!! Mom! Dad! Help! It's attacking me again! Aaaahhhh!!"

The dark arm/hand finally reached the hem of the pyjamas and gave it a good yank.

Leon's britches fell down around his ankles.

James and Lily rushed back into the room and turned the light on (again).

The dark arm retreated back under the bed and to the safety of the shadows. Harry watched with a large grin on his face as his frightened brother attempted to convince his father that there was something under the bed.

Finally, the situation was too much for James and he let out a loud laugh.

It took Leon a moment to catch on and then he quickly reached down and pulled up his PJ bottoms. "You prat, dad! Why didn't you tell me this was one of your pranks?!"

"Heh-heh, because it wasn't one of mine, son. This one was Harry's. He said he had something in mind for you. Now I guess we know what it was."

Leon looked around the room and under the bed again. He stood up, a grin on his face. "Okay, he got me. But how did he do it?"

"Don't know, son, don't know."

"What are you two talking about? Harry wouldn't pull a prank like this? He's an apprentice for god's sake. He doesn't have time to pull pranks. You on the other hand…"

"Pax, woman, pax! I surrender. But I still didn't do anything."

Leon surveyed the room again. "Man, I sure wish I knew how Harry did that."

Grinning, Harry shadowed back to Hogwarts and his waiting bed.

**Sunday night, Gryffindor 1****st**** year boy's room**

Neville was sleeping. Dreaming. It was a favorite dream. He was flying through the air on his broom, racing the other chasers as they headed for the loops. They were cheering him on: Go, go, go, they chanted towards their star player.

He rushed the goal and began to throw when something odd happened. The broom began to buckle, then shake, and Neville dropped everything in order to hold onto the broom with both hands. The broom changed direction and zoomed off over the spectators.

A few moments later he was by the lake and the broom began shaking again. He went lower where he was only three meters off the lake's surface and the broom shook even more. Finally, his grip gave out and he fell a short distance into the lake. He went under the water only to reappear a moment later looking waterlogged (understandably).

His dream self didn't know what had happened. The crowd was still chanting his name so all was not lost. He just had to find his broom. An eye suddenly appeared next to him. It was the giant squid, he recalled. Oh, what did it want now? He'd heard it was friendly.

The squid began to rub his tentacles around Neville. He wasn't sure what was going on until he felt himself lifted out of the water a bit. Oh, that's a relief – it didn't want him to drown he surmised.

Then the squid brought Neville's face up to the squid's "face" and rubbed the two of them together.

What the…?

Then the squid started to really get frisky.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh!" Neville yelled, lurching out of bed quickly to get rid of that dream. Where the heck had that come from?!

"Neville?" came Ron's voice. "You okay, mate?"

"I'm fine, Rufus. Just a bad dream."

"It's Ron."

"Whatever. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Go back to sleep."

A grinning shadow popped out of existence a moment later.

**Tuesday evening**

Harry had received a summons from the Deputy Headmistress to come to her office for a meeting earlier that day. Since she was tied up with other matters (mostly working with the younger students), she asked him to come see her after dinner so they could discuss his progress at school.

Harry smirked at himself: he had gotten a little nervous about the meeting and when he thought about it, that nervousness had stemmed from his thoughts of Professor McGonagall and all the years he'd had her as his teacher. Amazing, he thought, here he was mostly an adult (mentally) but she was still able to affect a case of jitters in him just with a summons to the office. _C'mon, Harry, calm down, it's just a progress review_, he slowed his breathing.

He knocked on the door.

Moments later a prim and proper Professor McGonagall opened the door. "Punctual, Mr. Potter. I appreciate that. Please come in and take a seat."

Harry looked at the comfortable couch but knew what she really said was to sit in the hard wooden chair in front of her desk so she didn't have to shout at him for reclining on the comfy couch. So he sat on the chair and waited for his professor to ask how his day had gone.

"Mr. Potter, I'm sure you have an idea of why I asked you here," she began, lifting an eyebrow in the hopes he'd answer her unasked question of what the heck he was doing.

"Oh sure," Harry immediately piped in. "My day's going really well. I'm looking forward to the cook-off this Friday."

"Yes, well, that's not exactly what I was going for, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, okay. Well, then, my week's going fine so far. As you know I moved into the Hufflepuff dorm last Sunday and I've already made some new friends. Of course Pam and Edward were the biggest reason for that."

"While it saddens me to see you leave the confines of the Gryffindor tower, that is not why I asked you here either."

"Well then, whatever Neville has to say, I want to make it perfectly clear that I didn't do it. I was somewhere else at the time. On the other side of the castle."

"Yes, well, as much as Mr. Longbottom has brought your antics to my attention, that is not why I asked you here either. And before you say anything else, let me say that I just wanted to see if you had given any thought to your independent school project."

"Oh, that. You'll be pleased to know that I've got something in mind, professor. I've read Hogwarts, A History several times now and as interesting as some of the chapters are, nothing I have found in that book or any of the other books in the library tell how Hogwarts works. What wards were used in its construction? Why the stairs move in the patterns they do? Why did the Forbidden Forest become so Forbidden in 1356? It's a giant mystery of how Hogwarts works the way it does and I want to know all about it. So my independent study project is to de-mystify Hogwarts' construction."

"Mr. Potter, that is an admirable goal, but don't you think it is a bit far fetched? Granted, you are doing very well in all of your classes from what I've heard in our teacher's meetings, but you can't omit your class work to spend all of your time researching the castle."

"Oh, this is going to take me years to research, Professor. I figure I'll be spending most of this year just researching ward construction and then inspecting all areas of the castle for overlays, breeches, and thinning."

"Oh… well, it seems as if you've given this some serious thought then, Potter."

"It seemed to hold my attention better than simply working on a term paper such as The Psychological and Sociological Impacts Saturday Morning Cartoons have on Muggle Teenagers." **(1)**

"Cartoons?" Professor McGonagall commented in confusion.

"I'll see if I can't get you some examples, professor. I'm sure some of the muggle-borns would like to see them as well. Japanamation is the best." **(2)**

"I'll hold you to that promise then, Mr. Potter, but I believe we have gotten off topic. You are sure you wish to continue with your idea to define Hogwarts? I must point out that the last time this was attempted was in the 1500's and the professor working on it at the time never completed his work, instead he went down a corridor in the dungeons and was never seen again."

"You're referring to Gunther Schwertlilie in 1581 I believe. Teacher of History for 10 years who had been working on his own book on Hogwarts when he disappeared mid-term. Speculation at the time was that a student had attacked and killed the man for his tough grading, but nothing was ever proven and the mystery lingers. Truthfully, I figure the couple years he'd been working on his investigation he managed to alienate the one thing you absolutely cannot afford to disaffect."

"And what would that be, Mr. Potter?"

"Why, the castle itself, professor. You do know the castle is alive in a rudimentary way, don't you?"

**Wednesday morning, before lunch**

"Yes? Mays wees helps youz, young master?" a house-elf asked Harry as he came into the kitchen.

"Sure. Got a grilled cheese?"

"Child's play, young master," the house-elf snapped a finger and the sandwich appeared.

"On sourdough?"

A snap had the sandwich disappear and another snap had a new sandwich appear.

"With Munster cheese?"

"Swissy be standard, young master."

"Just trying to keep you fellahs on your toes," Harry grinned helpfully. "Oh, and you might want to check the expiration date on the cheese as the best slices to use are just a day or two outside of it going bad."

A snap had the second sandwich disappear and several heads were bobbing up and down behind tables as elves scampered to find the best slice available.

"I'm Harry by the way," Harry held out his hand to the house-elf.

The little being's eyes got big as a truly wondrous wizard wanted to shake his lowly hand. Sniff, it was almost too much and he almost broke into tears, but Gimpy was made of sterner stuff. After all, his mother had named him Gimpy of all things! By the evilness of dust bunnies everywhere, what was she thinking!

"Mees Gimpy, young master," and they shook hands. Once done, Harry released and his hands went back by his side while Gimpy simply stared at his hands in shock. The young master had actually shook his hand like… an equal!

"Say, Gimpy, you're in charge here, right?"

"Yes, young master. Gimpy has been in charge of the kitchen and laundry vats for many years."

"That's great. Ah, here comes my sandwich."

Another elf brought up the sandwich to Harry on a plate and he did a quick once-over to see if any hairs or dirt was on it. It was clean so he took a cautious bite and feeling that there were no egg shells or other things inside the bread, he began to chew. Yum.

"Oh, this is great, Gimpy. My compliments to your staff. You fellahs…"

"… and girls, young master!" squeaked a voice from the back, near a huge cauldron boiling over an open flame.

"And girls," Harry amended. "Your people are doing top notch work here and I for one cannot say how pleased I am to have such good working and dedicated elves like yourselves here. I came by to introduce myself to you and let you know that as a Hogwarts apprentice, I'll be researching how Hogwarts works for the next few years so don't be surprised if you see me in odd locations now and then."

"I's will let the other house-elves know, young master. Even Pucey who runs all the room cleaning elves. Not that I's wouldn't not tells him even thoughs he doesn't deserves to know after everythings like he thinks he shoulds. Not since… that night…"

After a few seconds of silence, another kitchen-elf Harry later learned was Mamosy said, "Youze gots to excuse Gimpy, young master. Pucey and Gimpy has been fighting ever since Pucey said Gimpy not using enough bleach in laundry."

"O…kay?"

"And that led to Gimpy sezing to Pucey that he not vacuum enough in common rooms and dirts still everywhere," Mamosy supplied.

"And I take it things just escalated from there?"

"Oh, yes, young master. Just yesterday Pucey said chocolate pudding not chocolaty enough."

"Scandalous," Harry said, quickly thinking. He quickly came up with a plan. It was certainly going to pay off going home earlier today to get something to drink. "Gimpy? Gimpy? Gimpy!"

"Yes, young master? Dids you needs something more? Baklava maybes? It's hard to make, but wes can do it."

"Actually, I thought of something that could help you. I've noticed that at the dining tables the drink selections are tea, water, and pumpkin juice. Have you ever heard of Pepsi?"

"Who's that? She works for Pucey?"

"Actually, Pepsi is a drink. Like this one," Harry said, pulling out the can of drink he'd taken from home earlier that morning. He'd kept it hidden in a shadow in his pocket which kept it nice and cool.

"I'm sure a lot of the students here would love to have something like this. You can get them in virtually any muggle convenience store. All you need to do is put the can on the table and if any of the purebloods don't know how to open it, those with muggle ties can always help. And best yet, if no one drinks a can, it can be saved and used again next time."

"That sounds likes it would save us time to prepare meals!" exclaimed a shocked and aghast elf.

"Actually, it won't. Because you need to shake up the contents of every can to mix the beverage juices together into a good flavor. And if you don't have enough time to do it, then you could always just do it for the head table and let the student tables shake it up themselves. In fact, the first time you serve a drink like this in any school, it is tradition to let the teaching staff partake of it first before allowing the students to have any. Here, why don't you take this can: that way all you have to do tonight is just shake it up and put it in on the head table, say, in front of the potions master? I heard he liked this drink. I bet he'd love to have it."

"Thank yous, young master!"

"Don't mention it," Harry replied. "And remember: the more shaking the better!"

**-0-**

Later that day on the outskirts of Inverness, at a local convenience store, around 2:45 in the afternoon, a bored store clerk looked up as a tall man with a lumpy trench coat and oversized hat approached his counter.

"Great," he groused quietly. "Kids again looking for a bottle of whisky disguised as a tall man." Probably had one sitting on the shoulders of another. Happened a couple times every year.

"You kids want something?"

"Yes, we's…" a high-pitched voiced started, then stopped. A sudden clearing of the throat later and a lower voice continued, "We ams… are looking for something to drink."

"Uh, huh. Let me guess. You want some rum, vodka, whiskey, wine coolers, bourbon, and beer, right? But you'll settle on just a single bottle of whatever I recommend because you only have a few pounds, mostly in change that you nicked from the old man's pockets while he was sleeping on the couch, eh?"

"Uh, no," the same deeper voice said as Jockey kicked the other elf holding him on his shoulders to stand still or else the muggle would know something was up. "We's… we're looking for some Pepsi."

Surprised, "Oh. Well, I can help you there. How much you want?"

"How much do you have?"

**Wednesday afternoon (after lunch, before classes)**

Lunch had ended a few minutes before and Harry, Hermione, Padma and Lavender were on their way to their next class. Since Harry's apprentice schedule had him coming and going to all sorts of different classes, this would be the first time in over a week that they'd actually be in the same class together.

At an intersection in the halls, Harry and his friends took a right and headed towards the end of that particular hallway. Interestingly enough, only a few students were behind the quartet, which immediately raised the hairs on Harry's neck. Mostly because they weren't fellow first years: they were upperclassmen and if memory served, they didn't have any classes down this way.

A slight frown on his face, the group turned left at the next corridor and immediately stopped at the visage of four uppers who seemed to be waiting for them. Turning around, the other three uppers had blocked their retreat. Harry's heart immediately began to race, gearing his arms and legs up to do some action if it required it. Spells (defensive and offensive) immediately began scrolling through his mind.

"What do you think you're on, Potter?" one of the uppers demanded, stepping forward and grabbing his robe.

Harry could have grabbed the 5th year Gryffindor's hand and pulled it off his clothes, but that might have started spells flying. Besides, there might be a way to end this confrontation diplomatically rather than with fisticuffs.

Yeah, and flubberworms might fly as well.

Harry calmly looked at the assembled students. They looked to be all fifth years: five boys and two girls. "Let me guess," he said calmly, pulling the hands off his robes and straightening them out. "A bunch of upperclassmen and women think picking on some first years is kind of cool. Right?"

The girl in Slytherin green looked at the other girl in Gryffindor colors (they looked similar so could have been cousins for all Harry knew – he never kept track of any of the uppers from his timeline). "Yeah, pretty much," she said, smirking while tapping her wand in her hand. "Except we're not picking on them. We're picking on you, oh ever so elated apprentice."

Ah. Jealousy. Harry was surprised that this hadn't happened earlier than now.

"Well, then, ladies, why don't you give it your best shot," Harry allowed.

"I think Johnny wants to take you apart more than either of us, or anyone else for that matter," the Gryffindor girl said, indicating the boy who had grabbed his robe earlier.

"You weren't the ladies I was talking to," Harry deadpanned.

"I bet you think you're all smart and everything since you're an apprentice," a Ravenclaw Harry later learned was Dominic Yvins said.

"I do, thank you," Harry replied simply. Hey, if they wanted to compliment him, he was all for it.

"That's not what I meant, firstie!"

"Too bad. That's how I took it. Next!"

"I bet you think you know everything, huh?" Gryffindor's Chester Xenifer accused.

"I do, thank you."

"I don't like smart-mouths," Gryffindor's Jonathan Stamro sneered. Harry actually did know this guy: he was a pain that thought the world revolved around him.

"You must hate yourself then."

"You're nothing, Potter," Johnny continued. "I don't know how you befuddled the sorting hat, but we're going to show you as the nothing that you are. After all, you're not even a pureblood! You're nothing more than a halfie by way of your mudblood mother!"

Harry's blood began to run cold. No one, absolutely NO ONE talked about his family that way. "Watch it, Stamro. You're on thin ice."

"Hey, guys, it looks like we finally got a reaction from Mr. Apprentice. And all because we mentioned his mudblood mother. What's wrong, firstie, mudblood got your tongue?"

Harry's temper, slow as it was sometimes to surge, was now racing through his body. For someone who had never had a family before to suddenly have a family, it wasn't uncommon for them to defend what they now had. "Shut your trap, Stamro. Last chance."

"Last chance to show you what a worthless firstie you are? I don't think so, son of a mudblood. You're just as big a waste as your mudblood mother was…"

Harry was tired of making allowances and listening to this pure blood motif and decided the best defense was a quick and decisive offense. Besides, Johnny's impromptu speech really got Harry's blood boiling. With his friends behind him near the other 5th years blocking their retreat, Harry could realistically only concentrate on the four uppers ahead of him. Saul Dexterz of Hufflepuff stood next to Stamro, and the other two were behind them on either side.

Harry rushed forward the couple feet to Stamro and jabbed him in the solar plexus, knocking the comment out of his mouth. As Stamro began to gasp for another breath, Harry concentrated on Dexterz. The upper had a look of shock as Harry grabbed him by his left shoulder and roughly pushed him into Yvins, and both of them whacked the wall their heads knocking together with a dull thwack. It wasn't enough to incapacitate either of them, but it gave Harry a couple more seconds as he then rushed back to manhandle Xenifer into the other wall, his head thwacking off the stone barrier.

Stamro had gotten his breath back and pulled his wand. The other three uppers behind Harry cheered on their Johnny to show the upstart firstie a lesson.

Harry wasn't about to give him a chance. Now that he'd gotten rid of any refuse that could slow Stamro's progress, Harry's attention again focused on the idiot in charge.

"Fernuc…" Stamro began.

But Harry quickly cut him off with an even quicker, "Expelliarmus!" Of course it probably didn't help that Harry was in the middle of an uppercut when he said it. Interestingly enough, Harry's uppercut never _physically_ touched the other student, but the action and the spell combined (as Harry had intended it to) to send Stamro further down the hall than a simple spell would normally have done.

The corridor was nearly 15 meters long and Stamro came to a rest at the next intersection, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact and more than likely either popping the arm out of its socket, or breaking a bone or two. All of the students in the hall were a little shocked at the brutality of the spell, and didn't stop Harry as he began walking towards the moaning Stamro who had shifted his gaze to see the fuming first year coming towards him.

"_Don't you dare call my mother a mudblood__, Stamro!" _Harry said in a cold menacing voice that would have made Voldemort proud. _"I don't give a damn if you're a pureblood, muggleborn, or half-blood: we're all the same. We have magical power and we are who we are. You want to know something? Our blood means nothing to our strengths. I don't judge people of who they are from appearance like houses or blood. If you're a Slytherin, you're a Slytherin, if you're a muggleborn, you're a muggleborn. Live with it! _

"_You want to compare abilities? My father is an Auror Captain in the Magical Law Enforcement! What does yours do? Mine's an elite Auror, second in ability next to the legendary former-Auror, Alastor Mad-Eye Moody. My mother also worked for the ministry at one time as an Unspeakable! They only look for ability and don't give a damn about blood! Got it you bloody stuck up spoiled brat? So don't screw with me Stamro! This is your only warning. If you try to bully me or any of my friends for that matter with your stupid blood comments, I'm going to really beat the crap out of you! Not the little love tap you just got. Got it? Good!"_

Everyone flinched at his tone, while some backed away from him. Where was the amiable apprentice they'd been watching for the past few weeks?

Stamro tried to back up but he was already against a cold wall. He was cradling his arm as it or the shoulder or both had been injured.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall shouted.

Harry gave her an icy look while trying to keep his magical suppresser from cracking. It wouldn't look good, if he exploded with magic and stunned everyone in the hallway.

She faulted but regained her composure.

"Mr. Potter, 50 points from Hufflepuff, detention tonight for attacking a student and watch your language!" she shouted at him.

Harry closed his eyes and mentally began playing alpha images through his mind to get him thinking about anything other than wiping the floor with the bigot. A few seconds later his breathing returned to normal and he opened his eyes.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had come down the hall to see what the disturbance was. "My apologies, Professor. I allowed my temper to wrest control of the situation instead of my intellect. I abide by your decision. However, are you not going to deduct points from the other houses as well? These morons were all part of the plan to accost me and my friends," Harry asked calmly.

Harry really didn't care about the points he'd lost, even though he knew he'd have to make it up to Professor Sprout. It wasn't her fault he'd lost his temper.

She gave him firm look and then looked at the situation. "Mr. Stamro, 50 points from Gryffindor and detention. Mssrs Dexterz, Walker, Yvins and Xenifer, and Miss Doolittle and Miss Forrestgreen: 10 points from each of your houses and detention. And all of you are to write apology notes to Miss Granger, Miss Patil and Miss Brown," Professor McGonagall said calmly while Flitwick conjured a stretcher for Stamro. Harry could tell the diminutive professor applauded his defending of other students.

"Thank you professor. Your objectivity is refreshing and I appreciate it. I will be a few minutes late as I doubt you wish me to attend class given my mood. allow me 20 and I'll be there." With that, Harry turned and quickly strode away from all the students, intent on finding an empty classroom where he could meditate for a few minutes to slide the foul tasting adrenaline rush out of his system.

As quick as he walked, he never noticed that Hermione had rushed off after him after seeing the rage still in his eyes. She'd seen that same look in her father's eye when he'd decided to change the spark plugs on his car. The same look when her mother and she had taken him to the emergency room later on for breaking his fingers trying to get the plugs out. The biggest difference between the two, Hermione knew, was that Harry was adept at magic while her father should never be allowed to work on a car again, possibly never even drive one if she had her way with it.

Harry entered a room and Hermione came in immediately after him. "Harry! You shouldn't have attacked him like that. In front of a Professor too! You're lucky you weren't expelled. And all for a bad word?"

"Hermione, he called my mother a mudblood. If I hadn't done anything, he'd have started calling you the same. It's a slur, Hermione, you know that. And he wasn't the only one there thinking that. All of them were. And all of them wanted to slap me around and once they finished with me, they'd start in on you. They were nothing more than common bullies. You remember what I told you about how pureblood's think of muggleborns?" Seeing her nod, Harry continued.

"Purebloods like Stamro, Forrestgreen and Walker disgrace the name of wizardry, one day... in a thousand years – maybe even less, the Purebloods will be extinct. They are dying every day. At the moment, they're marrying their distant cousins. Soon enough, they'll be marrying their brothers or sisters. You know what happens the same as I do: birth defects, and the stagnation of magic. They don't understand how life works here in the world. As for defending you, you're my best friend. No one insults my best friend. I mean it. No one messes with my friends and gets away with it. If anyone does something like that again, tell me, okay Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. She was so shocked. Her friend Harry called her his best friend and the way Harry acted… he was fiercely loyal to his friends. She realized that if she somehow broke that trust at any time, it would be hard to gain it back. She was impressed with his devotion to her.

Harry smiled. Then suddenly heard some clapping. Instinctively, Harry spun around, wand out of his holster ready for combat. Looking at the position of the clapping sound, he noticed it was Dumbledore.

"Ah, you have loyalty that no one can compete, Mr. Potter: 20 points to Hufflepuff for excellent explanation of the discrimination of muggleborns and loyalty to a friend," Dumbledore replied with his eyes twinkling.

Harry gave a small nod to his former (current) headmaster. He didn't trust Dumbledore in this dimension any more than he really trusted the last one. Dumbledore obviously knew what he had done those other students. And considering he had an unknown power level first year that also happened to be an apprentice to every subject, Harry was certain Dumbledore had one thing on his agenda: peg that kid's power level down and get him swayed to helping the old goat out as much as he could squeeze out of him.

Suddenly Harry felt some mental pressure trying to penetrate his thought barrier. Harry glanced at the headmaster and smirked, winking at the old man as an imaginary arm opened the rickety door in his mind and put out a message to the would-be attacker. It read:

_Am minding my own bizness, bub.  
Ah'd appreciate it if'n you'd ask for  
permission first before poking around  
this here swiss cheese._

Dumbledore's shocked look was kind of funny. The psychic expanse was a bright white in all directions. There was only this little house in the middle of the anti-landscape. Smoke came out of its chimney and the rickety door was anything but when he tried to press against it.

There was no movement at all. Still, Dumbledore did get a reaction. He got a splinter in his hand from the old wood.

And it was a stinger.

Nursing his hand in the real world, Dumbledore smiled at the two first years and said, "So, Mr. Potter, you've learned the arts of Occulmency. I'm surprised."

Harry inwardly rolled his eyes. "I doubt that, headmaster. You heard the sorting hat as well as I did. I'm sure you knew exactly what you'd find."

"Let's just chalk it up to me having an inkling but no specifics. You'd be amazed at how many of the other old families try to teach their children how to occlude their minds before they come to Hogwarts. You are the first I've met that has progressed this far at your young age."

"Why, thank you, Headmaster. I taught myself. I'm not what I'd consider a master of the art yet, but I'm getting there. It's not like it was hard or anything," Harry replied.

"I knew it," Hermione muttered to herself, making a mental note to find those books on Occulmency and Legillmency as soon as she could.

Harry hadn't heard her as he continued, "Even Longbottom could learn it. Given a decade or two."

"Mr. Potter, learning Occulmency on your own is truly a magnificent accomplishment. It also happens to be illegal," Dumbledore pointed out quietly.

Harry smirked.

"Actually Headmaster, what I read in Magical Law Enforcement For Dummies was that it was illegal to use Legillmency on uninformed people. Not creating mental barriers for yourself using Occulmency."

Albus smiled at the response. His apprentice was certainly not one to mince words if he could help it. He ratcheted up his eye twinkle to full blast as to give the impression that he was more amused than amazed at this mystery called Harry Potter.

There was no getting around it: he was going to have to ask James and Lily how they helped their son become so powerful. James certainly must have had his hand in training the boy's Occulmency. As is, having a grasp of magical laws by the age of 11 was an impressive feat. He had heard from his deputy of how a certain student had shot a standard spell with an unknown outcome that she still couldn't identify. It was as if a bludgeoning and a disarming spell had been intermingled which had left one student nursing a broken clavicle. This apprentice certainly needed watching, that was for certain. Especially if he were to ever recruit him into the Order when Voldemort rose again. And rise he will, he knew sadly.

"Well Mr. Potter, I'm here to tell you your detention is with Professor McGonagall tonight at 8:00. Do not be late." He smiled down at the students and Harry smiled back, neither giving anything away.

Bowing his head slightly, "Please don't be late to your next class, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter, take all the time you need to compose yourself." And with that he walked out the door. Harry watched him leave, not really sure where he was going to take this conversation. The old goat knew something – that was possible. He definitely suspected something – that was a certainty.

"Harry, do you want me to tell Professor McGonagall you'll be late?"

Just then the bell rang.

Harry turned to his friend and said with a smile, all thoughts of the previous altercation with the uppers pushed to the side (he'd get back at them later) and said, "How about we both tell her why we're late. No reason for you to get in trouble just because you were trying to calm me down. Thanks, Hermione. You're a good friend."

"Some friend, Harry. I was going to berate you for picking a fight…"

"Berate, befriend, I'm not choosy. C'mon, let's go."

Professor McGonagall didn't require any explanation from Hermione once they got to class and simply told them to take their seats.

As they sat down, the one thing Harry was grateful for about this entire situation was that no one had noticed he'd used wandless magic when he'd "punched" Stamro.

**Wednesday evening (Great Hall)**

By the end of the day it was all over school that Harry had fought a dozen purebloods and had wiped the floor with all of them, even sending the upstart Jonathan Stamro to the infirmary. Malfoy saw Potter come in talking with one of the girls that routinely hung around him. He didn't know how to peg Hogwarts' apprentice. True, he had managed to make a fool of Longbottom on a routine basis (a positive that), but today he'd thrashed a pureblood to within an inch of his life if the rumors were to be believed (which meant they were not) – and that was frowned upon. But said thrashing was of a Gryffindor (another positive). That Potter boy was certainly an enigma.

Harry noticed Malfoy staring at him as he and Hermione came into the Hall. Throwing caution to the wind, he winked at the Slytherin and gave a crooked grin. Then he steered Hermione to the Hufflepuff table where they sat with Edward, Pam, and Hannah.

Malfoy's frown deepened. What was the blasted significance of those winks he kept sending him? That book was absolutely of no use! He needed to ask someone. But who?

The Great Hall continued to fill up for dinner like it normally did. Some students skipped dinner to begin their arduous year of study (those with OWLs and NEWTs), figuring they would just nip down to the kitchens later on and grab whatever. But most of the student body was in attendance when something different happened.

For the past few weeks, the first years had noticed a trend that all the other years had long since become aware of. When the 7PM chime dinged, the tables would begin filling with food. It only took a few seconds for everything to show up, but it was kind of fun to watch as the food began filling up on the head table and then filtered down to the rest of the tables, like a ripple of water moving outwards. There was the usual assortment of meats, potatoes, and vegetables that only the upper years ate since the younger years knew better than to eat them (yuck, Broccoli). There were the usual beverages in tankards, steins, goblets, cups, glasses, and pitchers.

Only this time there were some new things on the table. Well, the head table to be exact. As predicted, those with muggle ties instantly knew what it was and were looking forward to getting their hands on a can of Pepsi. It had been too long with only Pumpkin juice to drink. They needed some real caffeine.

At the head table, Albus Dumbledore, big cheese in charge that he was, raised an eyebrow as he noticed a can of soda in front of his plate. A quick glance to the right and left showed that each teacher had a can of soda with the word Pepsi on it in front of them as well. Touching the can he instantly felt that it was still cold.

"Headmaster," Professor Sprout said, holding her can, "what are these?"

"If I'm not mistaken, it's a can of soda."

"Right you are, Albus," Professor Bark replied. "Why, I remember having one like this back in the day. All you need do is pull the opening tab off of it to open it. Like this." With that, he put his finger in the opening and pulled. Nothing happened. He pulled again and again nothing happened. "Tricky little devil," he muttered, pulling his wand. "Accio little piece of metal that opens the can!" he incanted. The pull piece came off but the can remained closed.

"Huh. How about that. Didn't work."

Severus Snape snorted in contempt. "Honestly, man, how did you survive in the wilds? Look at the can. You don't pull it off; you push it down… like this."

SSSPPPPPPRRRRAAAAAYYYYYY! FWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHH!

The Great Hall went silent as the Potions Master was bombarded with a brown spray of geyser proportion. It stopped within seconds but the damage had been done. He sat there with a wild look of confusion mixed with righteous anger. Oh, when he found out who… there they are! "Weasleys!"

Fred and George Weasley, who had been planning a prank over mashed potatoes but stopped to watch the spraying show, raised their hands in surrender. "It wasn't us!" Fred immediately said.

"A likely story, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, marching down the aisle towards them. "Detention. Both of you. For a week. Helping Mr. Filch unplug that pesky drain on the second floor."

Suddenly, more cans began to fill the rest of the tables. Students looked at the cans and then back to the still-soaked Potions Master. They pushed the cans to the middle of the table. A few muggleborns knew that the fizz would eventually go down so pocketed them for later consumption and advised their friends to do the same.

Thursday morning 

"Ah, Mr. P-P-Potter. I'm g-g-glad you c-c-came to c-c-class early," said Professor Quirrell.

"Yes, sir?"

"I w-w-wanted to inform you th-th-that I have th-th-thought about y-y-your offer and it appears I c-c-can use an assistant to g-g-grade p-p-papers and even t-t-teach the y-y-younger c-c-classes th-th-theory and w-w-what have you. Those dunderhe… er, s-s-students just aren't g-g-getting w-w-what I'm t-t-teaching. It's l-l-like th-th-they've n-n-never heard of m-m-magic before."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied neutrally since it was common knowledge some students _hadn't_ heard of magic before.

"A-a-anyway, p-p-perhaps they m-m-might understand y-y-you a little b-b-better th-th-than me. Start t-t-today. I'll b-b-be in the b-b-back office, g-g-grading p-p-papers. C-c-come ask me any q-q-questions you m-m-may have. Here is the c-c-course outline for the r-r-rest of the y-y-year for f-f-first th-th-through th-th-third years. Also, here's th-th-their r-r-recent p-p-papers. You c-c-can g-g-grade th-th-them as well."

Harry immediately knew this was going to take some serious time away from him, but he thought at least the first years could benefit from some competent instructions. Harry noticed the bloody dark lord didn't say anything about coming to him if Harry were suddenly overworked and overwhelmed.

Jerk.

**Thursday afternoon**

The thought of the upcoming Quidditch class was nerve wracking for some first years, but not all. In fact, most purebloods would boast the number of times they'd ridden brooms, participated in aerial maneuvers, and even won the game at the last second thanks to their own heroics. Harry calmly shook his head at their imagined antics – had he ever been like this himself? Obviously not about Quidditch since he'd been muggle raised.

Other students were nervous wrecks when it came to the thought of flying without mechanical engines and huge aluminum wings. And a qualified pilot other than themselves at the controls. Harry found himself all throughout lunch calming fears of flying. What amazed Harry the most was not the wizard Blaise Zabini coming up to him and asking him flying questions, but instead the witch Blaise Zabini asking him questions.

During Harry's seventh year, Blaise and he had spoken a few times outside of the common house rivalries and he had come to know this man's wit, intellect, and more importantly, where his loyalties laid. It was with neither Voldemort or himself: instead, it was a loyalty to his family. He and his family skirted by on neutrality and as much as he avoided confrontation with anything that could jeopardize his family, he took a few minutes to appraise Harry of what he'd heard concerning the dark wanker. His intel had been one of the reasons Harry had proposed to Ginny the day he did. If he were going to die shortly (and at the time he thought he would as there were, after all, no guarantees on the final battle), he didn't want Ginny to think he wasn't in love with her enough to spend the rest of his life with her.

In the greater scheme of things, it wasn't much that Blaise did – but Harry recognized it was: it was the sense of doing the right thing. Harry wasn't family, yet here a Zabini was doling out useful information to impede the progress of the other side. That was getting down off that neutrality fence.

Blaise was also one of the very few Slytherin's to actually come forward and publicly acknowledge where his family sat once Harry had taken out Voldemort. The fact he had done so at Ginny's wake, in full view of those assembled (including a few reporters) only served to enhance the seriousness that he took his loyalties.

But now in this world, Harry had met a pretty young witch named Blaise Zabini who he'd spoken to a few times only to find her attitude the same as her counterpart's. Aloof. Quiet. Reserved. One thing he could sense, however, was that she was not enamored with Malfoy one little bit. It probably had something to do with the betrothal contract between his and her families. Harry knew he'd have to take any sort of friendship with her slow and easy if he wanted her as an ally. And helping calm any fears she had of flying was a good first step in that direction.

His soothing words were at least better than Longbottom's bragging of how good he was on the broom, or his snotty remarks to other students (like Hermione) who were visibly nervous about flying for the first time. Harry was about to stand up for Hermione when she suddenly stood up, calling him a rude boy and walked over to the Hufflepuff table and sat next to Pam and Edward.

All too soon, it was time to fly. Harry wasn't looking forward to it for several reasons. The first and foremost was that since he was an apprentice, he represented all houses and therefore wouldn't be playing for Gryffindor on the team like he had before. Not that he wanted to play for Gryffindor and that lout, Longbottom.

Still… it would have been nice to be able to play Quidditch.

The other reason was that he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to hold back how good he really was on the broom. He really wanted to cut loose and fly. It had been months since he'd been on the broom properly and his muscles were dying for some aerial release.

"Mr. Potter, a word if you please," Madame Hooch requested as he came out to the pitch with the rest of the students.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Mr. Potter, I am aware you are an apprentice for all subjects and while technically this includes flying, I want you to know that I am not placing any conditions on your performance today or in the near future."

"Ma'am?"

"There's no easy way to say this so I'll just come straight out with it. I was intrigued about having an apprentice in this class to help me monitor the students in the air so I contacted your father to get an idea of your prowess on a broom. He and I spoke for a bit and as much as it pained him to do so, he did give me a rough idea of your ability."

"Really? And what did he say?" Harry knew this would be enlightening.

"Please understand that if it wasn't for the safety of other students in the air, he would never have said anything. He said you were competent and had the terminology down but you weren't instinctive like your brother Leon. He also brought up your little foray into the cemetery over the summer and how you wrecked a broom."

"You don't say," Harry ground out. He was going to have to send his father a nice little letter about that. Or better yet, a good shadow hand jerk of his pyjama pants one night.

"Mr. Potter, I take every class seriously. I cannot realistically afford not to when there are students dozens of meters off the ground and one fall could seriously injure or possibly kill a boy or girl. I had to know your ability before I tasked you with any obligations."

Harry calmed himself. She was right. If he were lousy on the broom, it wasn't fair to make him teach others, and in some respects it was downright criminal to put him in charge of a potentially dangerous situation. "Well, professor, I'm not sure if my dad knows everything about me or my abilities. So why don't you see how I do in this class and if you still think I'm not good enough to be a flying apprentice, I'll accept your decision."

"Mr. Potter, I was planning on doing that anyway, but thank you for your open mindedness. Go take that broom over there."

Harry went and stood over a broom next to Hermione. She was still breathing shaky while others were laughing around her (but not at her). Longbottom was showing Dean and Seamus a Rememberall he'd gotten from his folks (but had forgotten what it had been for), and laughing all the while saying it must not have been anything important. That he already knew how to fly. Oh, wait, now he remembered. He ran over to Madame Hooch.

A moment later, she said loudly to a still-arguing Neville Longbottom, "For the last time Mr. Longbottom, the answer is no. First years _cannot_ try out for a Quidditch team unless at the sponsorship of a faculty member. And I make it a habit to never sponsor any first years."

The class began and people were soon saying 'Up!' to get the brooms off the ground. Hermione's broom remained on the ground while most everyone else's brooms were in their hands.

"Hermione, I know you can do it; don't try to command it. Feel it. It's not just a thing; it's like a living creature with emotions. Try and feel its emotions and summon it." Harry said encouraging her once. "Here, touch the broom first. Feel its rough edge. Now the bristles. Almost as if they could break at any time. But they won't. Feel its strength? That's the magic you are sensing. Now stand up again and this time, feel your command to the broom actually work. It wants to work for you, but you need for it to work just as well."

That was all it was needed for her to get her broom. "Up!" It instantly shot up to her hand, a large grin on her face. She gave Harry one of her actual pleased smiles. "I did it."

"Yes, Hermione, you did."

_Cough_

They looked behind them to see Madame Hooch giving Harry an impressive look.

"Hello," Harry said cheerfully.

"You do have your theory down, Mr. Potter. Your father was right in that regard. Well done. Now, I'd like for both of you to straddle the broom and then raise it a meter off the ground. No further. The rest of you, mount your brooms and prepare to hover only a meter off the ground! Yes, Mr. Longbottom, this includes you as well."

She walked up and down the line, correcting hand positions on the broom. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard, keep your brooms steady, rise a meter up, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. Everyone got that? On my whistle: three... two... one!" She blew it hard.

The class proceeded without any undue injuries. A few stubbed toes on the landing were quickly taken care of. About 45 minutes into the flying lesson, however, things changed as both Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom got into a shouting match. It quickly escalated from there as both their "gangs" vocalized their opposition to one another.

It went from bad to worse when Neville remembered his Rememberall and gave it a quick throw towards Malfoy who instinctively ducked the glass sphere. Gravity being what it was, the sphere immediately began a downward arc from the 15 meters off the ground where the groups were currently hovering.

Straight towards an unsuspecting Blaise Zabini. She and Susan Bones were next to one another, practicing their landings.

Harry, 10 meters away, saw the confrontation and when the ball left Longbottom's hand, quickly calculated the trajectory and sped off to intercept. The school brooms were less than ideal for speed, but Harry pushed his to the limit and managed to catch the Rememberall with roughly half a meter to go.

Of course, the next problem was not to run into Blaise or Susan with his broom. A problem that he quickly decided could be alleviated by simply allowing momentum to carry him under the two witches. And of course, that grounded him. Hard.

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter! Are you all right?"

"…murgle. I think so. Just let me… Mother puss bucket! Actually, I think my right hand is broken."

Madame Hooch blew her whistle. "All of you, down! Now! Put your brooms over there. All of you! Class is over for the day. Mr. Longbottom, I will be speaking to your head of house later about this. Mr. Potter, you are with me. Let's get you to the infirmary."

"Harry James Potter!" came the sound of another teacher, intent on catching up to Madame Hooch and Harry.

Harry inwardly winced and murmured, "Déjà vu."

"_Never... _in all my time at Hogwarts..." she trailed off while looking speechless.

"Minerva, can we continue this later? I have to get Mr. Potter to the infirmary. I think his hand is broken."

"What were you thinking, young man, going into that dive? You're lucky to only have a broken hand, and not a broken neck. What would your mother say?!"

Harry winced at the thought of his mother. He just knew she was going to scream like there was no tomorrow. Crap, he might even get another howler.

"But what a dive that was, Mr. Potter. Minnie, you should have seen it. And on a Cleansweep no less," Madame Hooch said with a grin as they made their way to the infirmary doors.

"Aye, I did see it. Looks like he has a bit of his father in him after all. So, Mr. Potter, have you given any thought to Quidditch at all?"

Harry remembered how Ireland and France had both asked him in his 6th year to join their Reserve Quidditch team when he refused to play his House Quidditch team. They had heard of his excellent Quidditch skills and had even scouted him during a couple matches. But he refused as he had more to worry about: such as the war. Ireland had sent countless letters pleading for him to reconsider. He had to admit, they were pretty desperate. From what he remembered at the Quidditch World Cup, Ireland had a crappy seeker, but the best overall team. France didn't want him as a Reserve Seeker; they wanted him _on _the real team. He had to admit, he came pretty close to accepting when Fleur begged him, but he held firm on declining all offers until after the war. Fleur had insinuated that becoming France's seeker would mean he'd get plenty of benefits. He never knew what Fleur technically meant by that, but by the way she was winking at him, he had a good idea.

"I've given it some thought," Harry allowed.

"Good. Because there's something that you should be aware of considering you are an apprentice," Professor McGonagall stated.

**Friday morning, Potions Classroom (Gryffindor and Slytherins)**

Professor Snape eyed the students entering the classroom with a certain amount of disdain and contempt. Who wouldn't if they'd ever have to teach students how to brew a potion to cure boils year in and year out. Sometime several times so they'd at least get it. Oh the injustices of the world that were heaped on his shoulders.

Then _he_ came in. With his patented sneer in place, Professor Snape asked, "What are you doing here, Potter?"

"I thought I'd see if you needed my help teaching the class again, Professor," he replied helpfully. Damn those smug Potters!

"I don't need any help, so why don't you leave? Don't you need to prepare for your impending crushing later today?"

"Nah, I'm good," Harry waved the concern away. "Anyway, if it's okay with you, I'll just stick around for the class project then. Shouldn't be too hard. By the way, did you hear the big news?"

"Don't be a nuisance, Potter. I'm trying to teach here."

"Oh, your teaching isn't a nuisance at all, Professor. I'm bursting to tell someone and I think you'd appreciate the news better than most. I've made the Quidditch team as a first year! Isn't that great?!"

"Shut up, Potter."

"I mean, because I'm an apprentice I can be on any team I want right now and I'm thinking that since the Gryffindors need the most help this year, I'm going to be on their team. I can't wait to play Slytherin in our first game."

"Shut up, Potter."

"I mean, the team captain, Oliver Wood – you know him? Anyway, he already had me try a Wronski feint and I pulled it off! How cool is that! Does your seeker know how to do that?"

"Potter, since you don't know the meaning of the words shut up, go organize the ingredients cabinet for the rest of the class."

Harry got up and moved towards the directed cabinet. "No problem."

"The rest of you, the potion to make is on the board with instructions. Get busy and be sure to make a mess in the ingredient cabinet so Mr. Potter has something to clean up." Heh, heh, teach that brat to mind his betters.

"Hey, pops, do you want this organized alphabetically, size-wise, toxic-level, what?"

"I told you not to call me pops."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Anyway, how do you want this mess organized?"

"Alphabetically."

"You got it. You sure you don't want me to help you teach this class?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"Yes, I'm positive. Just out of idle curiosity, what is it to you anyway?!"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Just trying to keep things safe here, sir."

"Safe from what, Potter?"

"Neville Longbottom, sir."

Just about then Neville Longbottom's cauldron exploded.

Professor Snape took in the scene for a quiet moment as a slight twitch spasmed under his left eye. "I see what you mean, Potter."

**Friday afternoon (The Cook-Off)**

"Students, staff, thank you for coming to this unusual competition, I believe it is Hogwarts' first ever cook-off," Albus Dumbledore said to the onlookers. The Great Hall had been reorganized to remove the staff table and replace it with what looked like a conventional oven, complete with knobs and switches for Professor Snape, and a standard cauldron-sized fire pit for Harry Potter.

Said onlookers consisted of most of the school since there wasn't much else to do that afternoon and no one wanted to get an early start on the homework assigned for Monday. Except Hermione that is.

Speaking of the two participants, they walked towards each other from opposite ends of the raised platform, each holding a box.

Addressing both the contestants and the audience, Albus began, "Gentlemen, the rules are simple. You are each responsible for acquiring and providing all ingredients for the other person's creation."

The two contestants shoved the box to one another, but since they were already occupied by a box, they ended up putting them down on opposite counters, then moving to pick up "their" box the other had provided.

"Ah, good. You came prepared. Excellent. Now, each of you have two hours to produce the intended result your counterpart has instructed you to create. Apprentice Harry Potter has been tasked with creating Veritaserum, commonly known as the truth potion – a difficult potion to brew under the best of times. Potions Professor Severus Snape has been tasked with baking some Snickerdoodles, a marvelous biscuit I have had the delightful experience of testing several times on my forays into muggle London whenever I visit the ministry.

"Now, at the end of the time, Snappy, the head house-elf, Professor Quirrell and myself will judge the results. For those of you interested in watching, special magical mirrors have been placed above each participant that will show you how they go about producing their creations. Please talk amongst yourselves as much as you want and feel free to compare notes on how each person is brewing or baking as the case may be. I have been informed that both parties have agreed to allowing talking, singing, rhyming, heckling, and questioning as it is standard curriculum for a potions master to face such adversity when brewing their final, if only to see how they produce under pressure. Neither have said if they will answer questions, but you are certainly welcome to ask them.

"Now, gentlemen, I want a clean match. No low blows, jeering, or mocking of one another until the match concludes. Agreed? Then… begin. Two hours, gentlemen."

Severus Snape looked at his competition and smirked in triumph. This contest was as good as his. He was not going to be bested by an 11-year old of all things. No, he made sure of that. He doubted that he'd gotten everything he needed from Potter like he was supposed to so he went in search of alternate information to ensure his victory.

He noticed Potter put the cauldron on the fire and begin putting his ingredients in order. What the…? What was that?

"No knives, Potter? Planning on giving up now?"

Harry looked up at his opponent who seemed to be familiarizing himself with the layout of the mobile kitchen the elves had supplied. "Not really. I'm going to use this handy, dandy food processor. It slices, it dices, it even juliennes ingredients. Great time saver actually, especially after I charmed it to use ambient magic to power it up. By the way, what are all those knives for, professor? You do realize you don't need to cut anything for your recipe, don't you?"

"A good Potions Master has to be prepared for anything. When you're trained, you'll know that. In the meantime, quit looking at me, boy!"

"Whatever you say. Pops."

Twitch. _Don't let the boy rattle you, Severus,_ he thought. _Just go to your happy place._ And instantly James Potter was on an ancient rack being pulled in two by a grinning Severus.

After a moment's contemplation and reflection of being in his happy place, Professor Snape pulled the recipe from his pocket and compared it to the one he'd gotten from Potter moments before. It was time to compare his independent source's information to that of the whelp's.

And who better than to tap for homemade biscuit making than Hagrid? Well, the elves in the kitchens would have been better, but they still weren't talking to him after he'd complained several years ago about the state of lunch one day. I mean, really, who ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts still on? That was so muggle it was laughable.

The first thing Snape noticed between the two recipes was that Potter's was much shorter. That was to be expected, though, since he had used a Dict-A-Quill at Hagrid's a few days previous.

**Hagrid's Snickerdoodles receipe:**

Arr, 'tis a good time to start a Snickerdoodles batch, bein' in th' afternoon' an' all. Okay, yer gonna be wantin' ta remember some o' th' ingredients are… uhm, a bit touchy, so yeh best stay on yer toes.

Okay, first start wit' some soft butter. I find it best ta use th' butter of TodeFode taken th' night of no moon from under a medium elm tree. About a thumbs worth should do.

Next, yer gonna need ta find some short shortenin' which I usually get from a gremlin fer a few knuts down in Knockturn Alley. Ask fer Smokey Bob an' say Hagrid sent ya.

While there, go ta th' Apothecary an' get some sugar cane. Yer gonna need ta refine it. Use a still.

Then yer gonna need two eggs: the ashwinder eggs react more violently than asp eggs, but taste better, tha's fer sure. O' course, tha's provided you keep the oven below 400 degrees Celsius.

Next, yer gonna need ta milk the vanilla plant fer about 20 minutes. That reminds me o' a story… what? No time fer stories. Okay, but it's a beaut, I tell you. Ask me again later.

Next, crush some flowers to make flour. Sure, yeh can buy it, but this way it tastes better and yeh have more money ta buy things fer yer still.

Next, grab th' kilt of a Scotsman, makin' sure it shows true tartan colors. Wha? O' course yer gonna need it! How else do yeh expect ta put the fire out wit'out scorchin' th' snickerdoodles, man?

Then take sum o' those muggle drinks called soda and turn it ta powder. This is called bakin' soda. I find it usually helps to solidify this powder by mixing in some graphite powder.

Next, down at th' sea's shore is some salt. Get some. Seaweed is optional.

Yeh got yer refined sugar yet from th' still? It's more potent than regular sugar, but ifn' not, ask the house elves for a few cubes yeh put in yer tea.

And finally, yer gonna need some ground cinnamon fer appearance.

Considering he was there when Hagrid had given the recipe, the conversation still rebounded in his head as he read over the recipe that insolent Potter boy gave him per the rules of the competition.

**Harry's Snickerdoodles receipe:**

INGREDIENTS

1/2 cup butter, softened

1/2 cup shortening

1 1/2 cups white sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons cream of tartar

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons white sugar

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

DIRECTIONS

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C).

2. Cream together butter, shortening, 1 1/2 cups sugar, the eggs and the vanilla. Blend in the flour, cream of tartar, soda and salt. Shape dough by rounded spoonfuls into balls.

3. Mix the 2 tablespoons sugar and the cinnamon. Roll balls of dough in mixture. Place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheets. Or you can grease them if you so desire which will alleviate any scorching on the underside.

4. Bake 8 to 10 minutes, or until set but not too hard. Remove immediately from baking sheets.

LET COOL, THEN EAT THEM. YUMMY. UNLESS YOU'RE A GIT OF A POTIONS PROFESSOR.

It's a trick, Professor Snape immediately knew. It was too simple. Ah, I know. I'll just make both and let the judges decide – and then show up Potter with his lame recipe. That's it. Only…

"Potter! Your recipe calls for greasing the pan. What type of grease do I use?"

Harry stopped grinding ingredients and looked at the man blankly. Oh, right, greasing the pans. "You really don't have to grease the cookie sheets, sir. It says so right there."

"A likely story, which is why you are still an apprentice and I am a master. I will remove any and all blemishes and scorch marks from my cookies, making them truly delicious. Now again, what type of grease do I use?"

"Bear grease."

"Don't be daft, boy. There aren't any bears around here."

"Ah, that's right. My mistake. Then I'd use axle grease. I'll ask the House Elves to get you some since I didn't bring any."

-0-

"Hermione, look at what Harry's doing!" Parvati nudged her fellow Gryffindor.

"He's… what is he doing? I thought that processor he brought in was to take care of all the ingredients."

Other students began to watch the apprentice as he pulled out a knife and began slicing a white spherical object. A few minutes later he lit another fire on his portable burners and pulled out a pan and put it on it.

"What's he doing?" another voice asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, he's sautéing some onions," Hermione hypothesized.

"But Veritaserum doesn't use onions," a 7th year Ravenclaw said, skimming his potions text to make sure he was right.

The students weren't the only ones to notice the odd occurrence on the platform.

"Potter! What are you making over there? It is affecting my progress!" hissed an irate professor as he smacked the TodeFode down again to keep it in its buttery goodness.

"Oh, just making something to eat, pops. I skipped lunch today and I'm getting hungry. I'm going to make a patti melt. Want some?"

"You don't have time to make anything else, Potter! Your undivided concentration must be on your potion! Don't you know anything?!"

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm doing fine. I'm even going to grade a couple of these papers while my potion is simmering. By the way, your biscuit is on fire."

"Gaaahhhhh!" Snape went to put the fire out while Harry went back to his snack.

-0-

"One minute, gentlemen," Albus commented out loud for all parties. The students watching from the tables below began to show more life. On the platform, Harry lazily stirred his potion with one hand while marking a fellow first year's DADA paper with an Acceptable grade. He looked up at the headmaster and then at his opponent.

To put it mildly, Snape looked like hell warmed over. His hair was down in his face, he sported numerous black smudges on his clothes and cheeks, and his Kiss the Cook apron (provided by Harry as well) had what Harry thought looked like flour, but couldn't quite make out since there were reds, blues, purples, orange, and yellow markings all over it as well. It was as if the man had fallen down several times on a bouquet of flowers.

Seeing that his time was nearly run out, Snape quickly grabbed a towel and opened the oven door, pulling a tray of biscuits out.

They were smoking. Seeing this, he then grabbed the tartan kilt and smacked the biscuits to stop any fire from starting. Hair disarrayed, he grabbed a spatula and began moving the biscuits from the tray onto a plate, carefully moving them so they would not fall apart since they were still a little warm.

While moving the third to last biscuit to the plate, abruptly the last two snickerdoodles on the pan combusted. Without fear, the potions master deftly put the biscuit on the plate and grabbed the tartan kilt again to whack out the fire. Hagrid was right: those kilts were made of some stern stuff. Almost made him regret stunning the muggle woman to get it.

"That's time, gentlemen," Albus announced.

Harry immediately put the paper down and pulled the cauldron off the fire. He then grabbed a bottle out of his rucksack and put it into the potion. Filled, he then took it out and dried the bottle off, quickly pulling a blank label out of the bag. He put it on the bottle and went to write the information on it but the quill refused to work.

Holding the bottle, Harry then reached into the bag to look for another quill. Finding it, he pulled his hands out and quickly write down the name of the potion, the date brewed, the brewer, and the location. He put the bottle down on the table and stepped back.

Snape had moved away from his steaming plates of goodies as well, a victorious smirk on his face. Merlin, but those biscuits of Hagrid's had been tough to make!

Albus, Snappy, and Quirrell approached the two work stations. "Being the younger of the contestants, Mr. Potter's potion will be judged first," Albus declared. The two men and house elf looked at his potion, sniffed it and with a bob of his head, Albus said, "Mr. Potter's potion is indeed odor-less and colorless which are the traits of this potion. All in all, I grade this an Outstanding effort. Snappy?"

"Mees thinks potion outstanding for great young apprentice!"

"I'm n-n-not s-s-sure if ow-ow-outstanding is in order, but it c-c-certainly exceeds expectations," Professor Quirrell stammered, slowly pocketing the potion for later use on an unsuspecting individual (heh-heh-heh).

They went to test Professor Snape's biscuits. He could still win! Potter only got two O's and an E. Three O's and victory was his!

The trio looked at his biscuits, tapped them with wands, sniffed them, even tasted them. Oh, his victory over Potter was a done deal! How he'd make that brat squirm!

Albus cleared his throat and addressed the audience. "After careful consideration and testing, while Professor Snape's biscuits are full of exotic spices, they also contain some toxic levels of mercury and lead. Harry Potter is declared the winner."

Students began to cheer for the apprentice. Hip, hip, hooray!

A grinning Harry winked at his opponent as they shook hands in good sportsmanship.

Draco saw the wink and quickly pulled out his winking reference companion. He had to get the bottom of that winking conspiracy!

Soon enough, enthusiastic students were surrounding the apprentice and congratulating him over and over.

-0-

Later, after Harry cleaned up his work area and headed down to one of the potions classrooms to put ingredients away, Hermione walked by him, still praising her friend for his intimate knowledge of potions.

"I mean, I still can't believe it, Harry. We're the same age and you were able to create that difficult potion without any help at all. It's just amazing."

They entered the classroom and he went to the ingredients cupboard. He looked around to make sure they were alone and smiled at his friend, saying, "I really didn't do that much, Hermione. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? Harry, I read up on that potion. It's routinely used when grading a potions mastery. And here you go and create a perfect go of it first try. That's just… astounding, Harry!"

"Hermione, I knew about the potion. I read up on it. But in all honesty, I counter-cheated my way to victory."

That stopped her. She looked at him, confusion apparent in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's like this. Professor Snape was responsible for supplying my ingredients. He didn't do it. He deliberately set me up to fail, leaving out several key things – oh, they were there and all, but they were under a glamour to show one thing when it was something else. Final result should have been a greenish-putrid looking concoction. So I skipped adding those ingredients, and also destabliszed magically other ingredients. See? They're all still at the bottom of this cauldron."

Hermione looked inside the cauldron and sure enough there was some… wet mess at the bottom of it.

"Then how did you…" she began.

"It was easier than you think, Hermione. I knew what the end results were so I came prepared with my own vial that I switched just before labeling it. That's what I gave the judges."

"Wait, you're saying you already brewed veritaserum before today's competition?"

Harry grinned. "Not really. Think about it. The end result is a truth potion that is odor-less, colorless, and tasteless. What else do you know of that fits that criteria? I'll give you a hint: it's a liquid."

Hermione thought on it for a few minutes while Harry put the supplies away, and then grinned. "Water! You gave them a vial of water!"

Harry closed the cupboard and secured it with a locking spell. "Bottled water actually. As long as they don't test it on someone, they'll never know how useless it is to get the truth out of someone. And Snape can't tell anyone he deliberately tried to sabotage me without losing face to an 11-year old. You know, I can't wait to tell my folks about this. Especially my dad. He's going to go spare."

As they prepared to leave, Hermione said, "I can't believe it. You pranked the entire school on that."

"Thanks."

"Harry, I have to admit. You pulled off an ingenious prank. You're not at all what I expected after having only known you for less than a month. I mean, yes, I knew you were mischievous, but I thought any type of prank you pulled would lead more to… physical comedy than these setups you've been doing."

"What setups do you mean?"

"Please, Harry. The Pepsi at dinner last week that exploded in Professor Snape's face? That had your handwriting all over it."

"But Fred and George Weasley got blamed for it."

"Exactly. From what I've heard the older students saying, it was a joke like they would have pulled. But I could tell it had your handwriting all over it."

"I can neither confirm or deny your accusation then, Hermione. But I'm curious. What kind of jokes did you think I'd pull?"

"Truthfully? I thought you would have tried to bring in a Magic 8 Ball and used it as a divination aid." **(3)**

Harry waved her suggestion off. "Ah, it's been done. I need to do something fresh. Something that I won't be caught doing."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Hermione started, "but as my first ever friend… do you need any help?"

**Saturday morning, breakfast (Great Hall)**

As Harry, Pam, Edward and Susan entered the Great Hall, the first thing Harry noticed were all the glares he was receiving from the Slytherin table. Guess they weren't happy with the cook-off results. Harry winked at them, especially catching a shocked Malfoy's eye who quickly snapped his fingers and one of the goons (Harry had a hard time telling which was which) handed him a book which he promptly opened to the back as if looking something up in an index.

"Better watch out, Harry," Pam teased. "Looks like you're on the receiving end of a house glare."

"I'd watch out what I eat or drink if I were you," Edward put in seriously, knowing full well what a house glare could do.

"Ahh, I'll be fine. No worries. Hey, Hermione! Over here! Sit with us."

"Hello Pam, Susan, Edward. How are you this morning?"

"My head still hurts," Susan groaned, sitting at the table along with the others.

"What? Why?" Hermione asked in concern.

Edward grinned at her situation. "She celebrated in the common room with the uppers a little bit too much last night." Sniff. "Had a bit of fire whiskey too if I'm not mistaken."

"Celebration?"

"C'mon, Hermione," Pam inserted. "Harry won! A Hufflepuff pulled one over on the potions master. It was great!"

"Pam, Harry's an apprentice. He technically is in all the houses."

"Yeah, true, but yesterday he was in the Hufflepuff house so that means we won! Score!"

Hermione had to grin at her friend's cheerfulness.

Harry carefully looked over the breakfast selections and put some fruit on his plate alongside some good looking toast. He skipped over the speckled-jelly slices to go for the butter-only ones as it was easier to see if it had been dropped or not. He knew he was going to have to talk to Gimpy regarding what exactly those specs in the jelly actually were.

The friends chatted about the cook-off some more, about how frazzled Professor Snape appeared during the entire process while Harry looked calm and collected, even going so far as to grade a few papers for DADA during the course of his contest.

During this conversation, the morning flock of owls came in carrying parcels, letters, papers, and four owls in particular zoomed in towards Harry. Three were carrying a long package that Harry could instantly tell was broomstick-sized. The other one, Lost, was carrying a very red letter.

A howler.

The hall went quiet as it normally did when impending doom for a student was forthcoming.

Harry gulped while Susan whimpered out, "Oh, Harry."

Hermione was perplexed. It was a letter in a red envelope. What was wrong with that?

Edward could sense his friend's confusion. "It's a howler, Hermione. You have to open it, or else. Just watch," he said, again back in his serious expression.

As Harry's hands slowly went to where the letter was still attached to Lost's leg, Neville had something sarcastic he just needed to get out in the open. "Look, Potter has a Howler. I bet he's in _trouble_." Immediately he and some of his friends laughed.

As Harry touched the envelope, it exploded and a huge booming sweet voice barreled over everyone in the Hall.

_HARRY, SWEETIE! WE JUST HEARD THE NEWS! YOUNGEST SEEKER IN CENTURIES! YOUR FATHER IS SO PROUD OF YOU! HE CRIED IN JOY WHEN HE FOUND OUT! OH HONEY, WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU!_

Oh. My. God. It would have been better if they were actually yelling at him. They were praising him in front of the entire bloody school. He never felt more embarrassed in his whole life. Except for the time when his baby picture showing his butt got plastered on the front page of the Prophet a year ago (bloody wankers always looking for ways to up their circulation).

Harry blushed a beet red. Neville's face took on a furious expression as he realized Potter was being praised versus being chastised. Plus he was secretly envious that the apprentice had been given permission to join a Quidditch team as a first year. The rest of the Hall started laughing at the beet red Harry.

He thought it stopped there, but it continued. Oh, the agony…

_OH SWEETIE, THE LAST LETTER WE SENT YOU SAYING HOW PROUD WE ARE OF YOU BECOMING AN APPRENTICE JUST WASN'T ENOUGH. WE WANTED YOUR ENTIRE SCHOOL TO KNOW HOW GREAT WE THINK IT IS THAT YOU'RE ABLE TO HELP OUT OTHER STUDENTS AS AN APPRENTICE! OH, YOU'RE TURNING OUT SO MUCH LIKE ME IT'S UNBELIEVABLE. I'M SO GLAD YOU ARE TAKING YOUR STUDIES SERIOUSLY AND NOT PULLING PRANKS LIKE YOUR FATHER. JAMES! PUT THAT DOWN! YOU ARE NOT SENDING OUR SON A RUBBER CHICKEN!_

_HI, SON, IT'S DAD! I WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I'M… I'M… I'M SPEECHLESS IN SAYING HOW PROUD I AM AT YOU BECOMING A SEEKER! AND THANKS FOR THE ARE-CAY ACKAGE-PAY OF ISCUITS-BAY. ANOTHER WOULD BE APPRECIATED SOON!_

_SORRY, SWEETIE, YOUR FATHER JUST HAD TO SAY SOMETHING EVEN THOUGH THIS IS __**MY**__ LETTER. ANYWAY, I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT HOW YOU WERE GOING TO BE AWAY FROM YOU FAMILY, ALL ALONE AT HOGWARTS THIS YEAR. BUT IT APPEARS YOU ARE DOING FINE. I'M SO GLAD, SWEETIE!_

_LEON, YOUR SISTERS, SIRIUS, AMY AND THEIR FAMILY, AND REMUS ALL SAY HI AND SEND THEIR LOVE. YOU'LL BE HAPPY TO KNOW THAT LEON HAS MOVED BACK TO HIS OLD ROOM. SOMETHING ABOUT THE HAND OF DOOM DEPANTSING HIM EVERY NIGHT FOR A WEEK HELPING HIM MAKE THAT DECISION._

_OH YES, THANK YOU SWEETIE FOR THE FLOWERS ON MY BIRTHDAY! IT WAS THOUGHTFUL OF YOU TO SEND FLOWERS TO ME. ALL MY FRIENDS ARE TELLING ME YOU'RE SUCH A SWEETIE FOR SENDING YOUR DEAR MOMMY FLOWERS. YOU'RE SUCH A DEAR, SWEETHEART. CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN, SWEETIE. LOVE YOU._

_MOMMY_

By the time the letter finished (and exploded in a shower of confetti), Harry was hiding under the table. He was blushing so red that it rivaled the legendary Weasley's. Some of the teachers at the staff table had various expressions. Dumbledore's twinkle was in overdrive; Snape sneered while giving a disgusted look; Flitwick laughed; and McGonagall was smiling. The rest just smirked at his predicament.

Hermione was shocked. Just when she thought she'd get used to the magical world, something new made an impact on her. And this… howler… certainly did that. She was pulling the confetti out of her hair while simultaneously pulling Harry back up from under the table.

Students all around them at every table, Hufflepuff's included, were laughing at him and some were calling him "Momma's boy, momma's boy!" As the laughing died down, other discussions, mostly started from girls at every table, commented on how sweet it was for him to send flowers to his mother on her birthday. And how their boyfriends could take a hint at that. Got it, mister? Yes, ma'am.

"Oh Harry, I knew you were a momma's boy, but wow, you weren't kidding," Pam teased her friend. This brought forth another round of laughter at the Hufflepuff table. This time, Harry grinned with them. He still flushed beet red but it was either laugh with them or cry alone.

Besides, he had a package to open that the other owls had dropped off and left like the good delivery owls they were. Sure enough it was a Nimbus. There was a note on top of the broom. Harry flipped it open. At least it wasn't a howler.

_Awww... you get to play Quidditch as a first year, I'm so jealous, here's the broom dad and mum just bought you. Love ya bro! I told mom to not send you a Howler, but she was had a dreamy look in her eyes and humming. I don't think she was listening. Hey, guess what? We went out for dinner this entire week! It was great! Do something else that gets her dreamy for a week, okay?! I can't wait to come to Hogwarts!_

_Your dearest sister,  
Shelia_

_P.S. In the bristles of the broom is a hidden rubber chicken that Dad wanted me to include. Use it wisely._

Harry smiled inwardly.

Edward gasped.

"Harry, isn't that a Nimbus 2000! Sweet." Everyone in Hufflepuff immediately came to look.

"Wow, Harry, you hit the jack-pot! Momma's boy," the prefect, Cathy-Ann, smirked, ruffling Harry's head.

"Damn straight! I can't wait to try it out."

"Wow, I never even touched one. How cool. Can I have a ride on it?"

"Is it really yours?"

"Hey, hey..." Harry said trying to control the situation and keep everyone's hands off the broom until he'd gotten the chicken out. "Of course it's mine. My mum and dad bought it for me."

"Ok, momma's boy. Don't get so touchy."

Everyone snickered at the still-beet red Harry.

_Dear God, why did she have to embarrass me like that?_

**Two weeks later, Thursday evening, after dinner**

Early October in Scotland was cool in the day and cold at night: meaning it was normal weather for the country. While the majority of the students bundled up to stay warm, Harry wasn't affected by the cold as much as he said he was if only to keep up appearances. Heat and cold did not affect shadows and not to say he was impervious to these things, but he did have a better tolerance for both. Light affected shadows most of all and that is what caused Harry the biggest problem. On a normal day, even a sunny day, he could find solace in a shadow somewhere if a headache started. But on grey days where everything had a bleached color about it, those were the worst because there were no natural shadows. Those days left Harry on edge. Night couldn't come too soon on those days.

After one of those days, and the welcome relief of night, Harry thought better than to subject his friends to his still skittish nerves and instead sought out Professor Binns.

"Professor? Got a minute?" Harry said in a polite voice.

The ghostly professor looked up from the task of grading papers and motioned for Harry to come on in. "What can I help you with, Mr. Potter?"

"It's… it's about the visions we keep having in class, sir. I know you're pleased and I've done a bit of research on history channelers throughout the centuries but haven't found anything describing how we do what it is we do. Reginald Mantle in 1645, Archibald Andrews in 1827, and J. Forsyth Jones in 1515 all have biographies written on them in the library which describes what the results were for those that attended their history classes, but nothing directly says **how** we do what it is we do. Or for that matter, why we can do it."

"I actually knew Archibald Andrews, Mr. Potter. He was an interesting man. He was actually the one who helped me understand my gift much as I am going to help you."

"I appreciate that, sir."

"So tell me, Mr. Potter, when we review history, what do you feel?"

"Sir?"

"Please, just humour me. You are in a vision. What are you feeling?"

"Well… disgust at the attacks mostly."

"Yes, that is to be expected. But that is a surface feeling, akin to what the rest of the class is feeling as well. What do _you_ feel underneath?"

"Well… I want to help them. I want to move from where I'm standing and join the defence. To stop a battleaxe from cleaving a skull in two."

"You want to be involved," Professor Binns clarified.

"Yes, I want to be involved. Somehow. It's not right those people are dying in such horrific manners."

"Mr. Potter, I want to move slowly with your gift so you don't overuse it and chance to burn it out. I would like for you to think on something the next time you attend a vision. When Master Andrews took me on my first visions, he told me that it was possible to interact with history, but to do so was inconsistent at best. Keep in mind you are talking about events that happened centuries ago."

"But think of the people you could save," Harry said, his heart on his sleeve.

"There is that. And I thought of it too and voiced a similar statement. But Master Andrews told me that magic would exact a price for any interference. Well, naturally in the exuberance of my youth I thought of him as a lazy geezer who didn't know a mermaid from a seahorse, so one night I sought out a vision where I could help.

"About 754 years ago was a small goblin rebellion near Dublin. Three people died and four others were wounded, one seriously – she lost an arm. I went to that location and saw the goblins begin their advancement, the couple warders they had with them defusing the alarm wards on the outskirts of the town near the three homes containing the wizarding families. I wanted to help them so much. The other visions I had I simply stood there and the vision carried me to where I needed to go. This time I began to walk to where I wanted to go.

"I started walking and then running towards the houses, yelling that goblins were coming. That had the action I'd hoped for and the adults sprung to action, grabbing weapons and wands to meet the goblins. I still had my wand so I joined in, providing some shielding spells for a couple of people while they fought back the attack.

"Once the goblins were in retreat, I was elated. I had changed the outcome. No one had died. There were a few injuries but I was sure they'd survive. I even talked to one of the people who I'd rescued. His name was Seamus Flintlock and he thanked me for helping defend his wife and two children.

"At about that time I felt a quiver in my magic. I didn't understand at the time but it was a signal from my present to my past self that it was time to go. So I came back to the present and woke in my bed. The first thing I thought was how did I get here? Then after finding out a few hours had gone by, that's when I found out that when I returned to the present, my magic was depleted and I'd passed out at my desk and my dorm mates had put me to bed before fetching the healer. Interacting with history had consumed a large portion of my magic at the time. It took me days to fully recover and get back on my feet."

"But it was worth it, right? You were able to save three people from death."

"I thought so. Which is why I went back to my research the next day, looking for anything on that rebellion. I found that it was noted as an attack that was thwarted and felt good. But then a larger attack happened a few days later that killed all the wizard adults, leaving the children orphans. All seven people died in the next attack that hadn't happened originally. Magic had exacted its toll. Which is why you cannot change history no matter how much you want to. Please remember that if nothing else."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "How about interaction on a theory level? Such as you go back in time to some point and ask person X what their thoughts are on situation Y? You're not changing history, you are only getting their view of something? Would that be permissible?"

"You're looking for a loophole, Mr. Potter. I think for you that experience will be a better teacher of some lessons than I can be. Just be careful in anything you do."

"Sir, I meant no disrespect…"

"None taken, Mr. Potter. I remember what it was to be young too. I had many of the same questions you have. And I remember my master's resigned sigh when I went about doing what I felt was right much as I think you're going to do as well. I will endeavor to at least save giving you a resigned sigh. Just, be careful. Fate is funny in the way it wants things done. And some things done cannot be undone, no matter how hard you try."

-0-

Later at the end of the night, Harry walked to the library and was trying to find information about his wand. He never heard about the King of Azerothigan before. He heard about former Kings of the Wizard World... but...

Harry took a walk through the Restricted Section. The secret to taking books out of the Restriction section for students was... to not step inside the confines of the Restricted section itself, but to summon the book to you from outside the Restricted section. Or take a walk through the shadows as a shadow, thereby negating the detection spells Madame Pince used when she wasn't there.

After finding the right book, Harry stepped out of the restricted section and summoned it towards him.

_History of Magical Kings and Queens: By Safire Sephiroth_

"Hmm... The Wizard King Seth... nah... the Demon Witch Queen Aghaim... no, definitely not... The White Rose Queen Lily? Interesting, and she's hot, but no... hmm? The Demon King Sauron? Very interesting... he looks pretty cool in that black armor... but no... Ah! Here it is... the Light King Azerothigan... "

_**King Azerothigan of Europe**_

_The Last Wizard King of the Magical Kingdom was King __Azerothigan__. He ruled the European Magical Kingdom for 189 years until his death. He was born and raised in Poland. He died in his summer retreat fortress, Azkaban, of old age. Known to be the strongest of his line, __Azerothigan__ was born as a Shadow Mage. Like all Mages, his Shadow Mage powers did not begin to mature until he reached manhood. Not much is known on what training is required to utilize shadow powers, nor the duration of the training, but some speculate it must be instinctive as King Azerothigan assumed his throne at an early age, destroying a dark lord in the process._

_Of the seven other shadow mages in recorded times, Azerothigan__ was known as the strongest Shadow Mage and led the most powerful army that walked the earth: the Shades of Anti-Life. Little is known about them, however it was said they were the ruthless cousins of Dementors by those that survived several campaigns. However one thing is for certain, __Azerothigan__ once said only a Shadow Mage could command his Shadow soldiers, or the Azkaban staff. _

_So that's the reason those damn dementors quit affecting me when I became a Shadow Mage, _Harry thought to himself.

_After his death, the loyal servants who he created from the Shadows disbanded, disarmed, and disintegrated back to where they had come according to several accounts of other wizards who remained cordial with the Shadow King. Some writings say that those particular shadows are still on the island of Azkaban, ready to defend the last home of their King. The Dementors for some reason did not disintegrate and remained behind to actively patrol the island and feast on any who chose to invade their master's resting place._

_Shortly after King Azerothigan's death, his kingdom fragmented back under the rule of the muggle fiefdoms from which he'd largely ignored during his rule. Without the shadow army to keep them at bay, muggles began enticing wizards and witches away with dreams of riches that soon became servitude to vile creatures who only wanted to conquer their neighbors. It took several centuries to remove the memories of witches and wizards from most muggles, moving them back to the ideas of rumor and speculation instead of fact and ridicule. Wizard councils were then implemented to keep the magical community a secret the world over so we could not be used as the weapons of whatever nation we happened to be in at the time._

_As for __Azerothigan's__ Shadow Army, wizards have tried for centuries without success to recreate what he did effortlessly. The Dementors have only just begun to listen to the wizard councils, not so much out of whatever compulsion spells they may have placed on the guardians, but possibly due to their hunger for emotions to eat. Since __Azerothigan was the last one they listened to, many suspect the next shadow mage will have full control over them as well. _

Harry was speechless...

As a Shadow Mage, he could command the Dementors to serve him! That was… good news at the very least.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered out loud. There was nothing more written. There were plenty of blank pages for text to show up on but nothing was there. _Enchanted_, Harry thought. Only, it wasn't enchanted for him to read. Possibly a scholar, or someone with Madame Pince's permission. _But… it's just a history book. What could be harmful in reading this book?_

Harry brooded for a bit longer over the book. He was certain he could break the charms hiding the text, but wasn't sure what the eventual fallout would be. If he did it, and returned the book, Madame Pince would know someone had dabbled with it and alert the Headmaster who would investigate. There was also the possibility that mucking around with it would permanently remove the text.

As an apprentice, he had a right to the book and knew Dumbledore wouldn't do anything about it, but it would set him in bad graces with the librarian. Besides, it wasn't the marauder way of doing things.

Then Harry made up his mind. It was time to use some Shadow-charged channeling power. Something he'd been toying with ever since Uncle Nick had brought up his power levels in speculation. He'd always told him that magic was change. And the more magic you had at your disposal, the bigger change you could make.

Harry looked at the book again. Then he looked at the book using his Shadow-sight, his eyes all but turning black. There. It was there. And it continued out from the book toward the south. It was a line to the writer of the book, he could just sense it. Only, the writer had lived over seven centuries ago.

Harry followed the line anyway. He shadowed it until he reached London. A broken down pub sat where the line stopped. He could sense she was in there. He concentrated on seeing her. If he could have seen himself, he'd have noticed that his eyes were flashing silver then black then silver then black over and over again. The pub looked better, then new, then it wasn't there. Then trees suddenly showed up only to get smaller and smaller until they un-grew, the cycle repeating several times until a fire raged and then un-started. A house (if it could be called that) suddenly appeared and Harry could feel the line from the book get stronger.

Harry walked across the grass to the front (and only) door and knocked loudly. It was early evening and he hoped the occupants weren't asleep.

Dah-duh-duhhhhh! Yes! An evil cliffie! Bwah-hah-hah-hah!

**End of Chapter 5: History, Schmistory**

**Please R/R.**

**(1)** I actually wrote a paper on that in college, except for the use of the word "muggles" since if I'd used it, I'm sure I would have gotten some weird looks. It wasn't as hard as it sounds. Especially since I made most of it up.

**(2)** I had to give a presentation on this for a technical writing class while in college. I got full marks especially since I provided video examples and some spin-off toys at the time, so no one was really listening to me anyway.

**(3)** As most writers think of the possible jokes to put in a Harry Potter story, many of them think of the Magic 8 Ball. This is a toy here in America (not sure if it's in other countries) where people hold a black round sphere (with the number 8 on the top) and ask it a question. Then they shake the ball and turn it over. Inside the ball is some dark blue liquid and a small hollow piece of plastic that rises to the surface with words on it like: Can't Tell You Now, or Looks Good, or other inane things like you would hear from a fortune teller. The bottom of the ball is flat and has a clear piece of plastic that when turned over, allows the plastic piece with all the words to float to the surface and reveal its "magical" answer. I had thought of the Magic 8 Ball but not at all seriously as I cannot do it any more justice than what you can find in chapters 26-27 of the Through the Fire story written by **LadyLuck321** (check my Favorites for a link to it – it's a couple years old so it's near the bottom). I was one of three contributors to those chapters so I know how funny it is.


	7. Chapter 6: A Trollish Halloween

**Disclaimer****: Not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling. If you think you can sue me to get money, go right ahead. I've got some old 8-Tracks you can have that may or may not work. Other than that, you're out of luck. **

My apologies for getting this chapter out later than I wanted. I started working on this overall chapter-plot more than a month ago but it didn't get developed in a timely manner for several reasons. First was a death in the family of an aunt of mine in Kansas, which required driving to Witchita. Second was my status review from a jerk that I have to call my manager for the time being. Third was all the time I spent (instead of writing) working on my resume and submitting to new jobs. Here's hoping something breaks soon. If I can impart any words of wisdom, then let me say: never _ever_ work for a jerk. They will ultimately screw you over. If you can't get out from under that kind of manager, then find a new job as soon as possible. So to make up for the delay in this chapter, I've made it a little longer than a normal chapter.

I had hoped to get a little bit of writing in as I'm a beta for BitterIcing's Undead Secrets, but I haven't heard what is going to happen on that story in months. It's a wonderful story and I know she had plans to complete the initial story and work on its sequel. Bitter, if you're reading this, drop me a line.

**Chapter 6: A Trollish Halloween – Fall Term Year 1**

_Then Harry made up his mind. It was time to use some Shadow-charged channeling power. Something he'd been toying with ever since Uncle Nick had brought up his power levels in speculation. He'd always told him that magic was change. And the more magic you had at your disposal, the bigger change you could make. _

_Harry looked at the book again. Then he looked at the book using his Shadow-sight, his eyes all but turning black. There. It was there. And it continued out from the book toward the south. It was a line to the writer of the book, he could just sense it. Only, the writer had lived over seven centuries ago. _

_Harry followed the line anyway. He shadowed it until he reached London. A broken down pub sat where the line stopped. He could sense she was in there. He concentrated on seeing her. If he could have seen himself, he'd have noticed that his eyes were flashing silver then black then silver then black over and over again. The pub looked better, then new, then it wasn't there. Then trees suddenly showed up only to get smaller and smaller until they un-grew, the cycle repeating several times until a fire raged and then un-started. A house (if it could be called that) suddenly appeared and Harry could feel the line from the book get stronger. _

_Harry walked across the grass to the front (and only) door and knocked loudly. It was early evening and he hoped the occupants weren't asleep._

**(((o)))**

**Outside what will become London, 857AD**

The house (cottage?) stood by itself near a copse of trees. The sun was going down and Harry could see some smoke coming out what he guessed was the chimney. Or used as the chimney.

Nearby was a small patch of land that had the usual farm look to it. Since there weren't any weeds in it, Harry was pretty sure someone had been here recently, if not now.

Taking a deep breath, Harry went to the door and knocked.

Harry felt a ward come up. What the hell? He wasn't familiar with it since it was informative in nature instead of something out to kill someone with the name Harry Potter.

Harry let out a passive shadow and quickly got the impression of one person in the cottage.

Bam, bam! Harry knocked on the door again. "Hello? Anyone there?"

"Who is it?! I've already paid my taxes for the year. Go away already!" came the rather insistent voice inside. A rather feminine voice at that.

"Um, hello? I'm looking for a Safire Sephiroth. Does she live here?"

"Doesn't sound familiar. You try the hovel down the road?"

"No," Harry replied exasperated. "Look, I'm pretty sure she's here."

"Why are you sure? What's it to you anyway? Why are you even looking for her? I'm sure she wasn't anywhere near that fire. She was in Surrey that day." The voice ran the excuses together so Harry knew something was up. But the voice eventually did open the door. Harry noticed the woman opened the door carefully, looking out the crack first before opening it the rest of the way.

At first, the woman looked out door and saw nothing. Expecting the worst (meaning: an invisible enemy intent on harming her), she was about to send out a wide area stunner when she noticed a boy standing in front of her home.

The woman opened the door all the way and looked down on Harry as if trying to figure something out. After a few moments looking at him, she then looked around the property to see if someone was putting her on. Seeing no one, she intensified her gaze on the young boy.

Harry took this time to study her in return. She was about five feet, five inches, had auburn shoulder length hair tied up in braids as he was sure was the local custom. She also wore a dress of heavy material, even though the weather seemed to favor something else a lot cooler. She was attractive but not a stunning beauty. Smudges of dirt were on her face probably from working the farm. A scar ran across her left cheek to her lower lip. It was fain, but if you looked for it, it was there.

Suddenly, her eyes shot open and she cried out, "Harry? Is that you?"

"Uh, you know me?"

"Do I know you? Come on, how could I forget someone like you, Harry? You saved my life two years ago. Granted, we only met for a few minutes before you drove off that wizard, but I'll never forget you. How can I? Only…"

"Yes?" Harry said for lack of anything else to say.

"Why on God's green Earth are you masquerading like a child? Don't you realize how dangerous that is here? Why not show up like the man you were the last time we met. A delicious man at that. Yum. Now, age up. Come on, chop, chop. Get the lead out."

"Age up?" Harry muttered in confusion.

She must have heard him. "Yes, age up. You don't think I'm going to shag a kid do you? Give me a little credit on that why don't you. It may be acceptable for parents to marry off their 13-year old kids, but this woman has no desire to bed a kid. Too weird. I need a man, not a kid. And I'm not going to do anything with you if you continue to look like a child. What's the big idea looking like that anyway?"

Harry continued to stare at the crazy lady for another minute.

Safire looked at Harry critically like a teacher did to a dense student. Finally, "You don't remember me, do you?"

"No, ma'am, I don't," Harry replied honesty.

"How many trips back is this for you?"

"Alone or with a group?"

"Ah, playing tour guide are you? Need some extra cash and all that. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt to prove it. Course Mikey went and turned it into a wet t-shirt as soon as he could… shame he wouldn't let me wear it when he did that, but that Mikey was always a strange one wanting to wear my clothes. That's why we broke up. Now where was I? Oh yes, how many trips have you taken back alone?"

"Um… this is my first."

She smiled as she looked on him, a hand going to her waist. "Ah. I understand. Well, Harry, since I owe you a life debt, I'm going to start paying it off now. First, you have to understand that while you are able to go back into the past, your actual physical body is in the present. That means you are not here in any manner other than magical. Oh, you can feel and sense and kiss and all that, but your body is somewhere else. You are in essence a waking dream. That means you have a body you can change and not be a metamorphmagus to do it."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Huh?"

"Think about it, Harry. All it takes is will power, and a strong desire to change something. Most magic is like that. Concentrate on becoming an adult again. You can do since I've already seen the outcome. Give it a shot."

Harry thought about it for a moment. If he was a waking dream, he could look like anything. "Hold on, let me try something." Harry concentrated and slowly he began to age and grow. Soon, he was back to his old self before the advent of chapter 2. He opened his eyes and an 18-year-old man smiled at to pleased looking woman in front of him. Harry went from looking up to her to now looking down to her from his 5'9" frame.

Safire smiled and said, "Now that's the man I remember. How about you and me heading to the back room for a few hours of relaxation? At least let me show you my appreciation for saving my life two years ago."

She grabbed his hand and began to pull him into the back room. "But I haven't done that."

She smiled as she moved the blanket separating the front from the back of the cottage. "Then it'll give you some motivation to go back further and do it."

Safire took his unresisting hand in hers and took him into the back room.

There was something relaxing about her, Harry could sense as he entered the room that contained a bed and not much else. Or at least not much else that he bothered to notice. He looked in Safire's eyes just before they kissed.

He did not think about his past loves at all for the next several hours.

-0-

**Uptime, present day**

"Harry?" Edward asked as he walked into the room. Nothing. His friend wasn't there either.

Frowning, Edward made his way back to the common room and spoke with Pam and Susan. "He's not there either. I don't know where he is; this isn't like him."

"Maybe he's inspecting the castle for his thesis," Susan suggested.

"Maybe," Pam acknowledged. "But I'm sure he would have told us first if that's what he was going to do."

"True," Edward said, thinking. "But I have a feeling that's not the case. Hey, Saul, have you seen Harry recently?"

"Get lost, Gallandro. Potter's a pest and so are you."

"How rude," Pam sniffed.

"Cedric? Have you seen Harry recently?" Susan asked another older student.

"Last I saw him was after dinner. He was headed for the library."

"The library closed an hour ago," Edward commented mostly to himself, trying to think where his friend was.

"To students, yes," Susan said, "but not to an apprentice. Maybe he's still there?"

"Let's go find out," Pam said.

"It's nearly curfew guys," Cedric pointed out.

"We'll run," Pam said with a smile leaving the Hufflepuff common area.

Cedric simply smiled at their antics. Firsties… was he ever that small?

Saul on the other hand went to alert a prefect that firsties were going to be out past curfew and that they needed to be taught a lesson. Teach that Potter to keep a better eye on his friends at least. Get him in trouble will he…

Five minutes later an out of breath trio of Hufflepuffs stood outside the library. The chime they heard indicated it was now curfew and they were outside of where they should be. Edward grinned and said, "Ah well, in for a sickle, in for a galleon." He then opened the door to the library.

It didn't take long for them to find their friend. He was standing next to the Restricted Section gate looking down at the book in his hands.

"Harry?" Pam said as she approached the unmoving boy.

The three Hufflepuffs looked at one another with worry in their eyes. Hesitantly, Susan reached out and touched his sleeve. "Harry? You okay?"

No answer. No movement.

Edward walked up to his friend and looked at his face, first moving to a lower position on his knee to look up since Harry was obviously concentrating on the book in his hands. The same book that had nothing written on its pages.

He gasped when he saw Harry's eyes. They were black. Completely black.

"What's going on here?" Jamie Summers asked, taking a small delight in startling the three students from her house. It was a small perk of being a prefect, but one she obviously tried to employ as often as she could.

"Jamie," Pam started, "something's wrong with Harry. We came here to find him and we did and well… see for yourself. He's not moving. He won't respond."

"And his eyes are like looking into a void," Edward put in, getting back to his feet.

"Maybe he's just messing with your heads. You're first years; that makes you easy targets. Harry? Harry! HARRY!"

"I don't think he's faking it, Jamie," Edward said.

The sixth year prefect stood for a moment taking in the scene. The three responsive students were looking to her for guidance and this was no laughing matter. "Edward, go to Professor Sprout's quarters and bring her here. Susan, go to the infirmary and bring Madame Pomfrey here. I'll go get Professor Dumbledore. Pam, you stay here and keep an eye on Harry in case… well, just in case.."

In short order, the adults had descended on the library and sent the students back to their rooms. After discerning that her newest patient was not the victim of a hex or curse, but was simply unresponsive, Madame Pomfrey whisked the apprentice back to her sterile lair and put him to bed. His expression was still the same and his hands still held the book as they were unable to remove it. Something resisted every attempt to wrest it away.

Professor Dumbledore had tried over 20 different spells in an attempt to get the book away from his hands, figuring that whatever was affecting their apprentice had something to do with that book. "I must say I am at a loss for this, Poppy," he said to the nurse. "This book simply does not want to be removed from young Mr. Potter's hands."

Poppy herself had not even tried removing the book other than seeing if she could take it out of his hands by pulling it. When it didn't budge, she had enlisted the help of the headmaster while she ran diagnostic spells on the boy. "Could the book be cursed, Albus?" Beep-beep-beep went a small green light near the lower end of her wand indicating his body functions were in the normal range. That indicator light had not changed during any of the attempts to remove the book.

"Anything is possible. It certainly wasn't cursed when we put it in the library years ago, but anyone could have cursed it since then. However, I do not believe so. I ran a check on the book and while magical, it does not display any of the characteristics of a cursed object."

"Then why can't it be removed?"

"That is the question of the night, isn't it? If I had to hazard a guess, I would say our young apprentice doesn't want that book removed and is using his own magic to counter my attempts at removing it."

"What makes you think that, Albus?"

"Other than being unresponsive to outside stimuli, the magical responses to my attempts have been equally met. If this was a cursed item, it would have been trying to overpower my attempts, or use Harry's lifeforce or own magic to avoid removal. Yet your diagnostic has not changed during any of my spells. If it is cursed, it is a passive curse, but I believe that there is no curse involved."

"Then what do you suggest is happening to him? I have not seen anything like this in all my days that has not been curse-related."

"This is new to me as well, Poppy. How is his health?"

"He is in excellent condition."

"No lingering spell residue?"

"Nothing that I can identify."

"I need to research this. Please place alert wards on him in case he wakes up or moves. I will check back in the morning to see if there is any change."

"What of his parents?"

"I will contact them as soon as I return to my office. Thank you, Poppy, I know he will do well in your care."

As the Headmaster left the infirmary, the nurse began casting and placing several alert wards on his newest patient. She also put into effect recording wards of his HMI and other magical signatures. She retreated to her office for an hour's worth of research on his condition before finally realizing it was late and she couldn't do him much good if she collapsed from lack of sleep.

It sucked getting old she knew. When she was younger she could have spent all night working on this problem. These days, however, she knew she needed her sleep.

She did wake early in the morning around 6AM and went to check on her patient. There was no change in his position at all. The only thing that was different was that Professor Binns was now in the room looking down on the apprentice. This was very odd. He had never once come to the infirmary while she'd been there. His body once visited the infirmary if only to have it sent on to his family, but the ghostly professor had never once stepped ectoplasmic foot in her hospital.

"Professor Binns?" the Headmaster was also shocked as he walked into the room.

"Hello, Headmaster. I heard that something happened to Mr. Potter and came to find out what is going on."

"That is certainly admirable, Cuthbert. But the only thing we know is his friends found him like this. He is not reacting to anything we ask of him, or even if we pinch his skin."

Professor Binns looked down at Harry and asked, "How about magical discharge? On the negative end if you please."

"I was just about to check my readings," Poppy answered. She then checked her wards and the two professors could see something was happening there. "This is incredible, Headmaster. According to this, Mr. Potter is discharging a tremendous amount of anti-magic. His brain is working even if he can't tell what is going on in the here and now."

"Ah," Professor Binns said. "That's what I thought. Not to worry, Headmaster. Harry will be back. He's simply gone on a vision quest."

"A what?"

"Oh, he has gone to view some history and more than likely he is going to try and change something. He'll be fine, but it may take him a bit to get back. My old history master advised against doing that. I'm sure once his energy begins to wan he will be pulled back uptime. I'm sure it will only be a few more hours at most."

"I don't see any diminish on his energy levels, Headmaster, professor," said Poppy. "And this has been recording his output all night."

"You don't? That's odd," muttered Professor Binns. "They should be dipping at the very least. I was only able to keep it going for 8 hours myself the few times I did it. How long has our apprentice been at it?"

"His friends found him about 10PM last night. So assume anytime after 10pm to now. Nearly eight hours. More than likely it is longer than that," Albus supplied.

That shocked the ghost. "That long and he has a lot of energy left?"

"As near as I can tell, yes."

"Oh dear. Well, all I can say is that he won't be able to change too much history no matter what he does. Fate won't allow it. I'm sure he will be back soon. Have you alerted his family yet?"

"I contacted James and Lily last night. They will be here shortly. Poppy, you had best get a spare bed ready if I know Lily at all. She will most likely want to stay with her son until he regains consciousness.

-0-

**Downtime**

Meanwhile, back in the past, several hours later (so to speak), a much more energized Harry came out from the back room. Moments later, Safire came out as well, her dress a little messed up along with her hair. Noticing the darkness, she used her wand and started a fire in the fireplace.

Looking at Harry, she smiled and said, "That was great, handsome!"

Harry smirked a bit himself. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"And to think, now I've got a full dozen. One more and I'll have a full baker's dozen."

"What?" Harry's smile faltered, fearing the next response would be an answer he really didn't want to know.

Safire looked at him and gave a sultry grin while moving to gather some dishes and pull out something to eat. "A baker's dozen. You know: notches on a belt. Conquests. Roll in the hay. That sort of thing."

"What?" Yep, Harry really hadn't wanted to hear that.

Safire put the bowls down and walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Sex. You know, what we just had. You didn't think you were the first did you? Come on, that body you have on is for show isn't it? You're older than you look, right? Don't tell me I just shagged some kid, right?"

Harry decided it was time to move this conversation in an entirely different direction. "You don't know how many questions I have running through my head right now."

"About sex?"

"No!"

"Oh." She walked back to a cupboard and found something to drink, then took it and sat down. "Well, go ahead and ask them. I'm too tired for another round at this time so talking will help you understand."

Harry pulled his thoughts together. "Okay. The first thing I want to ask you is your speech. Shag? That's a slang term from my time. Why are you using it? In fact, how is it I understand you as well as I do? I thought there'd be some dialect problems coming back this far in time."

Safire smiled and said, "Your magic is tied to you in both your present time and this historical time. It acts as a filter for you. You are hearing what I am saying in terms you better understand and my magic is doing the same for me – allowing me to understand what it is you are saying. You have met another history channeler haven't you? You're not a virgin on that as well are you?"

"No! I mean, yes, I've met another history channeler."

"Are you okay, Harry? You look like something the kneazle brought in after playing with it for an afternoon."

"I'm fine." Really, he was fine. Ya. You betcha.

"As long as you're sure," she replied with a slight grin. "That answer your question though?"

"Yes. I get the linguistics and no, I'm not a virgin the way you're asking."

"Whatever you say, stud."

Harry felt he knew the answer to the language situation but the explanation helped. However, the question he really wanted to ask was: "What did you mean by a baker's dozen?"

"You're not jealous, are you Harry?"

"No!"

"Uh-huh. Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. You're not the first history channel I've bagged, Harry. I've got almost all of them now. You know, oddly enough I wouldn't have even been aware of you until I got some intel on you from a Seer five years ago. Then the bit at Colin's castle two years ago – thanks by the way. Now today. Now there's only one left. And as is, I'm going to need your help to land him if that Seer is to be believed."

"Just who are all the others?" Harry asked with a slight edge to his voice. He wasn't angry, was he?

She started counting on her fingers, "Barkley, Gregorivich, Archie Andrews, D'Artione, Hu, Six of Eight, Schultzie, Binns…"

"Wait! You boinked Binns?"

Her eyes shot up as she said, "You know him?"

"He's my history professor uptime!"

"He's your master?"

"Not really. He's dead."

"I'm sorry. Died recently?"

"Nope. Dead for some time best I can tell. He's a ghost."

"Ah. Stayed around long enough to find and train a new channeler. Good dedication. Bit of a bore in the bedroom…"

"Please, don't tell me any more. I don't want to know," Harry had a queasy look on his face.

"Well, it's never been my habit to kiss and tell, so I'll keep a tight lip on the kinky things he wanted…"

"Stop!"

"I'm only teasing you Harry. Relax."

"Next question. You mentioned a Seer. Who and what info did he give that makes you need my help?"

"Sebastian Augustus DaVinci. I met him 12 years ago when my master contacted him for a reading. Once I finished my apprenticeship I hooked up with him for a bit and he helped me understand my power better than that old perv known as my former master. His inner sight helped me determine when I should travel to so I could meet other history channelers. 'Course I thought he'd blown a gasket when he suggested I visit Colin's castle a couple years back. Didn't know you'd meet me. Thought I'd have to zip to meet you."

Harry looked at her critically. "That explains the who. Now why do you still need my help?"

"I was just getting to that, sweet cheeks. Augie was able to see me meeting 13 other history channelers. But it was something to do with you that allowed me to eventually meet the last one. So do you think you're up to helping me… considering you know why I want to meet him?"

"You want me to help you travel in time so you can shag another channeler?"

"Sure. Don't you? Well, probably not since most channelers are men, but whatever floats your boat and all that."

"Ugh."

"You are so easy to rile up, Harry. That's what I like about you. That and your…"

"Let's get back on topic, shall we? No, forget it, I've got a thought that just won't go away. So you don't want to shag this last channler?"

"Whatever gave you that idea? Of course I do. It's just that he's going to be a little tough to catch considering where we have to go and all. Now before you ask me anything else you really don't want an answer to, what's the reason you came back here?"

"Oh, right. Lost track of that. Gee, I wonder why. Anyway, I'm looking for more information on the seasonal wands of Azgothigan."

Safire ladled some stew out of a cookpot over the fireplace and handed a bowl to Harry. "Good wand craftsmanship. Excellent quality. Not surprising you're looking for them. Most wizards would give their familiars for something like that. What makes you think I know anything?"

"I'm reading a history book you wrote and you mention them. That's how I knew to come back here."

"Really? A history book? I wonder when I do that? No matter. I'm surprised you simply didn't go back and ask the big guy about his wands yourself. Why come to me?"

"Binns said the farther you go back, to more power drain there is and when you get back to the present, you'll be paying for it for days if not weeks."

"True, but then Binns is only a history channeler. He's not also a shadow mage like you are. You've got power to spare and you know it."

"What?"

"Oh, relax, Harry. I'm not out to hurt you unless it's with some whipped cream on that torso of yours. You're a shadow mage. You know it and I know it."

"How do you…"

She grinned and put a finger to his lips to stop his sputtering. "Because I'm a shadow sorceress, bubba." She turned her eyes completely black similar to the way Harry's were back in Uptime. "I've got more power and more abilities than your average witch, but even I'm not as powerful as I can sense you are. I mean, just look at it. You've been here for hours and you haven't faded yet. If that's not an indication of power, I don't know what is."

"I don't understand."

"You mean Binns hasn't told you yet? Time works differently when you're interacting with history rather than just watching it. And the further back you go, the more time you lose in the present. You've been here for over two hours. Uptime you could have lost four hours or four days. Depends on how far away you are from the present, and how much power you channel back into the timestream to keep yourself from time distortion."

"Great. Just great. I need to get back to my time and hopefully set things back to normal." PING. "What was that?"

"Oh, I'd say you just trigged a desire to return home to your present. And magic is going to be taking you away from me in just a few moments. You staying her and returning is all just a matter of desire after all."

"But I still had more questions to ask you."

"I understand, tiger. Just remember you can come back here again real soon. As is, I'm not done thanking you for saving my life. And do me a favor, don't show up as a kid again. I mean, if we're going to have lots and lots of sex, I need to know you are a man."

Harry gets ready to go. "Say, you don't know what enchantments you're going to put on your book to keep others from reading things are, do you? What passwords you'll put into effect?"

"No can say, big guy. But come back here tomorrow and we'll discuss it more in-depth. And just to whet your appetite, here's something for you to see."

She opened a drawer and pulled out a silk cloth. She then pulled out a wand.

"Is that…" Harry asked as an understanding began to fill his head. Hey, it happened once and a while.

"Winter. I'll show you more if it when you come back next time. Ta ta for now, Harry." She winked at him as he faded from view.

-0-

**Uptime, present day**

A book landing on Harry's nose startled his eyelids open. Harry felt the sheets under him as he woke. What were sheets doing in the library? He blinked his eyes and noticed a familiar ceiling. What the? He was just in the library; what the heck was he doing in the bloody infirmary again? Looking around he noticed the light level coming in the room from the window. It was early morning and the sun was just starting to peek over the battlements on the eastern walls.

_Crap_, he thought. _How long was I out?_ Harry had guessed he'd only be out a few hours and then a little magically weak for a bit based on what Binns had shared from his experience, but how long was he actually out if he was in the infirmary of all places? C'mon, Harry, maybe it was only some students freaking out if they couldn't wake you.

Yeah, that's it. That's the ticket. They just freaked out when you didn't wake up.

Taking in deeper breaths to get his circulation moving again, Harry eventually sat up and looked around to see if he was alone. He had expected to sit up, looking in the half light and see a couple rows of empty beds. He was surprised then to see the bed next to his occupied. To make matters worse, he recognized the occupant.

It was his mother.

And as he squinted to get a better look he saw she was drooling on the pillow.

Deciding to get up, he tossed the book that was on him towards his feet, whipped the covers off and stood quickly. He noticed that however long he'd been there had been long enough for someone to strip him down and put him in his pyjamas. Not needing them for anything other than the façade he was continuing, Harry looked to his nightstand and found his glasses.

The stone floor was cold to his feet but Harry didn't mind it much. He'd gotten over thinking about such things when he was six and complained during the winter that he was cold to his aunt. After her little venting about ungrateful children, he'd had his cot and blankets taken away for a week. That same week he'd gotten a 104 degree temperature and now that he could look back on it, he realized it was his magic that had finally kept him in the realm of the breathing.

Harry walked over to the window and looked out. There was a little frost on the ground. It was fall, he mused. How long had he been out he wondered. It had to be a day or longer since his mother was wearing her sleeping garb.

_Crap,_ he thought. _How the hell am I going to explain this?_

"Harry?" a soft voice said, sleep still there. Then, louder, "Harry!"

Harry turned and saw his mother rushing towards him, her pink flannel nightgown (that went to her feet) not slowing her run to him. She smothered him in a hug. "Oh, Harry! You're awake! I was so worried. What happened? Did you touch a cursed book? Didn't I always tell you to run a check over any unknown book? Oh sweetie, look at you! You're all skin and bones. You haven't eaten in days. Are you hungry? I can have a house elf bring something up. How about some chicken noodle soup? Or a sirloin steak? Potatoes?" She stopped when she saw him smiling at her.

"Sweetie?" she managed to ask.

"Hi, mum." She was making a fuss over him again. How great was that?!

"Oh, Harry!" She swept him into another bear hug and leaked out a few tears.

It took nearly an hour for Harry to get his mother to stop mothering him. For one thing, he really didn't want her to stop, but eventually a bodily need won out and he needed to use the loo. Preferably without someone waiting inside with him in case he fell off the toilet.

Shortly after that he dressed in his school clothes with the full intention of returning to his dorm and cleaning himself up properly. After all, his hair was wilder than usual and he had a little B-O going. Thankfully, no one had seen fit to give him a sponge bath. God forbid his mother had thought to do it. Even Harry had his limits.

Fully clothed, he sat across from his mother, both on their respective beds. He knew there would be serious repercussions if he left the infirmary without Madame Pomfrey's permission, so he was waiting for her to wake and pronounce him fit as a fiddle.

"You ready to tell me what you were doing back in time, mister?" Lily asked, shocking her oldest son.

"Er… um, how do you know I just wasn't cursed?"

"Please, Harry, give your mother some credit. I've seen cursed people before. It's not a pretty sight. You on the other hand were still my handsome little prince."

"Mum," Harry's cheek's flushed a little.

"Besides, Professor Binns confirmed your little jaunt. He said it had something to do with your eyes."

"What do you mean?"

"Your eyes turned completely black, did you know that? All of it, even the whites turned black. And Madame Pomfrey said you were exporting a large amount of anti-magic out of your body. Harry, I'll be honest with you. When your father and I first heard from Headmaster Dumbledore that you were a History Channeler, we were both elated. We both have worked dangerous jobs in the past, and your father still has an element of danger in his job even now. We thought that this ability of yours would keep you safe, give you a safe job. And now we find that you can go gallivanting off in time whenever you feel like it and that it's not as safe as we thought it was."

"Mum, I'm not hurt. And I can't be hurt when I travel back in time."

"Oh really? And where did you get that little tidbit of information from? Because according to your Professor Binns, you can get hurt in time. Specifically, when you are interacting with time and not just watching it."

"Really? I can get hurt in downtime? Huh. How about that. He never said anything to me."

"I suspect he was waiting for the correct time. Specifically after you did something that caused you to get a little hurt with a time interaction."

"But mum, I had to go. It was important."

"What was so important you had to go alone and unsupervised at that, hmmm? What was so important you were left standing alone and unresponsive in the library for lord knows how long before your friends found you? What was so important that you wanted to change history even though I know that Binns has told you that you cannot change history?"

Boy, was she ever heated. Think fast, Harry. "Um… only part of history is recorded. I used the book as a starting point to go back in time. I found the event that was recorded but then watched and interacted with the part that wasn't in the book. Don't you see, mum? I can change history – but only the unrecorded history."

"Harry, you were out flat on your back with a book stuck in your hands for three days! I don't care about your reasoning on this. You are not doing another stint like that in time again, mister."

"But mom, if there's something I need to do back in time, I have to do it. Fate demands it." After all, he thought, how was he going to take Safire up on her invitation to return if he was stuck uptime under his mother's thumb?

"And just how are you going to know something in history needs your fingers poking around to fix unless it is already recorded, hmmm?"

Harry was a fighter. He thought with actions more so than with words. That was Hermione's department. Even as an apprentice he could feel himself sometimes get tongue-tied when asked too many questions at once. That was why he kept his mouth shut most of the time and looked around, trying to figure out the best response while other people just spouted whatever came to their heads.

And that was what he was doing here. His mouth was shut as he tried to figure out how to answer his mother's question. How would he know about something in history unless it were recorded somehow?

Lily sighed and looked down at the floor, her fingers intertwining on her lap. "Look, Harry, I understand what it's like to be your age. Really, I do. I was 11 once. You are a very gifted young man. And I know you've gotten better at keeping secrets recently. I mean, this summer is proof of that. Cooking like me when I couldn't get you in the kitchen for years? You not bothering to study during your first five years of schooling which now that I think of it you must have skived off so you could concentrate on your magic.

"You know, a couple months ago I actually suspected you were using a wit sharpening potion but you know what convinced me you weren't using a potion at all?"

Harry looked at his mother and said, "What?"

"The sorting hat. The enchantments on that hat see through potions and spells and other artificial aids students have used throughout the centuries. It sees the real you deep down. And when it made you an apprentice, I was so proud. My little boy was now a smart little man. To be able to hide your real abilities all these years and surprise us on your first day at Hogwarts? That was something, honey."

_She knows, _he thought. _No, she suspects something is different. You've got to quit arousing her suspicions. _

"Mum," he started, "I wasn't hurt and I don't plan to ever get hurt."

She sighed again and looked straight into his now-normal eyes. "Yes, you weren't hurt this time, honey, but what's to say you won't be hurt next time? Or the time after that?"

"I might get hurt, I concede that point, mum. But what if I can save someone during a time trip that otherwise might get killed by some rampaging nundu or berserk muggle? What if I can help save a child so they don't have to grow up an orphan?" Without meaning to, the hurt in Harry's eyes could be seen by Lily.

When had her son grown up into such a fine man?

"Harry… I have no right to stop you using your power. Only… do me a favor and let someone in the present know when you are going to do this again? So we don't find you like this last time?"

Harry nodded to that request. "I apologize for making you worry, mum. I'll have a spotter the next time I do this. I promise."

"Harry, I mean it. A spotter, or a friend, or even just someone concerned for your safety can do wonders for you, especially if you are hurt in the process. I mean, look at what I have to do with your father and that silly language of his."

"What… silly language is that, mum?" Harry asked guardedly.

"Your father's obsession with pig-Latin, silly. You know that. He, Sirius, and Remus use that language all the time when they're trying to pull a fast one while keeping me out of the loop."

"You know about that?" Harry really needed to rethink his mother.

"Harry, I was apprenticed to the Department of Mysteries when I was younger and language studies was required. Of course I know about it."

"Then why don't you confront them with it?"

"And give up my ability to read their notices whenever I want? Why would I do that? If I did, they'd just go and invent a new language and I'd have to spend time deciphering it before knowing what kinds of shenanigans those three are involved in. No, this way I get to know what is going on and if I need to take an active role in putting a stop to it, or just let it play out."

"Wow… I guess you're a good actor."

Lily smiled at her son and replied, "And don't you forget about it, mister. So that's my secret. I can trust you to keep it, can't I? You look like the kind of son who keeps his promises."

"I'll keep your secret, mum."

"Thank you, Harry."

It took another hour before Harry was released from the infirmary. During which time Harry had to recount his story of going back in time to a goblin rebellion he remembered reading about and then traversing the countryside to a different location to check on a village that was in the path of the goblins retreating with their pillage. He told about his adventure trying to get the villagers to defend their homes and the one wizard in residence to get ready to defend himself from the goblins. There was the obligatory fighting and the long rest periods punctuated with arrows shot over the walls. Harry hadn't heard of the village so was trying to rescue those he would. He only recalled reading that the goblins retreated along the way they'd come. So figuring it wouldn't hurt to check it out, that's what he did.

Harry knew he was never going to get into Heaven with the amount of lying he was doing. But he needed to keep his visit to Safire a secret. If only for the time being.

He told the story to his mother. Then to Madame Pomfrey who checked him over and pronounced him good enough to leave.

Then again to the Headmaster and his father (who was eating some breakfast he'd snatched from the kitchen thanks to a friendly house elf). It was Monday night when he'd gone to the library. Today was Friday. And class was going to start soon. Harry gave hugs to his parents and then made his way back to the Hufflepuff domain. He needed a shower.

And something to eat. Safire had certainly worked up an appetite in him.

**(((o)))**

"Hi, guys," Harry smiled as he sat down at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast.

"Harry!" Pam squealed, hugging her friend. "You're awake!"

"An improvement over yesterday I think," Edward commented with a faux upper lip.

"Miss me?"

"Of course not. Without you to mess things up, all of our classroom scores went up due to the staff's incessant use of a bell curve," Susan replied. "Of course we missed you, you moron. How are you feeling?"

"Well rested if you can believe it. Hi, Hermione!"

"Harry!" She ran over and gave him a hug that rivaled Mrs. Weasley's any day. "When did you wake up? How are you?"

"This morning and I'm hungry. Breakfast anyone?"

Edward chuckled at this byplay and scooped some eggs onto Harry's plate. Susan then gave him some toast that she knew he loved so well. Susan filled his glass up with some pumpkin juice.

"Wow. I should turn my lights out more often if I can get you to all wait on me when I wake up. This is nice."

"Shut it, you prat," Hermione grinned at her friend. "You had us worried for days. What were you doing anyway?"

Harry could have avoided the question but knew it would come back with a vengeance. This way he could at least put the right spin on things. "I went back in time. You know, kind of like I do in class."

"But that hasn't caused you problems before," Pam pointed out.

"Yeah… well, then I was only observing history. This time, though, I was trying to interact with history and that really takes it out of you according to Professor Binns."

"Interact how?" Edward's eyes narrowed as he came to the realization that his friend could do more than just watch the history channel all day.

"I wanted to save someone that might have otherwise died. Look, it's a little complicated and I still need to talk to Professor Binns about it. I can't really say much now because I don't have much to say. I went back, found a village, tried to help it stave off a gob squad and then came back to find that three days had gone by."

"Well," Susan began, "when you can tell us more, do so. Now go on and eat."

"Yes, _mom_," Harry grinned.

For a few minutes the group ate and the table continued to fill up, some of the newcomers waving to Harry and others choosing to not notice the apprentice and his friends. When a sixth-year prefect came in and saw Harry, she made her way directly to the group.

"Glad to see you're up and about, Mr. Potter," she said in a cheery voice.

"Thanks, Jamie. Look, I want to thank you and you guys as well for finding me and getting me to the infirmary. I'd hate to think I would have been stuck standing in the library all night. Really, I had no idea that was going to happen. I thought I would make a quick trip back in history and then be back before curfew."

"Guess you learned your lesson then, eh?" Jamie said.

"I already spoke about it with my mum this morning. No more going back in time without someone at least watching over my uptime form. Yeah, that lesson sunk in."

"Good, I guess."

"Besides," Harry continued with a marauder thought, "from what I heard, you learned something as well."

"Oh?" said the prefect.

"I heard you were the one who knew the spell to strip off my clothes when I was taken to the infirmary. You naughty witch you." Wink.

"Oh, ha-ha, mister. I was busy escorting your friends back to their rooms. For your information, I happen to know it is Madame Pomfrey who disrobes students in her care."

"Oh? And just how do you happen to know that fact, Miss Summers?" asked a smirking Edward.

She looked at him then back at Harry. "You try dating a Quidditch player long enough and you will become familiar with some of the more obscure things you don't ever want to know about the infirmary. Good day everyone."

"Later, Jamie," Susan said for the group.

**(((o)))**

After dinner that night, Harry made his way back to the History classroom. Once there, he proceeded to the office in the back. He stood for a moment rehearsing the story in his head that he'd been giving to everyone today. He was sure he could use the same story on Binns and no one would be the wiser.

He knocked on the weathered door.

"Enter, Mr. Potter," came the monotone invitation.

Harry opened the door and saw that Professor Binns was grading papers. Or more accurately, one of the house elves was picking up a scroll and putting it on a scale. Professor Binns then looked down on the scroll and then where the needle rested.

"Hmmmm, mark this one as an EE, Inky."

The house elf nodded once and put his finger in the inkpot and wrote a fairly legible EE on the top of the paper.

"Just one moment, Harry. I want to get done grading the 5th year history reports."

Inky picked up another scroll and put it on the scale. A cursory Hmmm later and it was given an A grade.

"Pardon my question, professor, but shouldn't you be reading those essays?"

"Whatever for, Mr. Potter? I've taken stock of my students before and believe me, if they can't stay awake in my class any more than the rest, I'm sure I don't need to review their work since it is most likely passed around from one student to the other."

"Then why the scale, sir?"

"Ah. Yes. The scale. It is to see how much work they actually inserted into the paper that I am checking on. Mark that one an EE, Inky. And that will be all. We'll do the 4th year essays tomorrow night."

"Yessir," squeaked the house elf. Moments later the house elf was gone, leaving Harry alone with the ghost.

"I take it you want to talk about my recent trip in time?"

"Somewhat," Professor Binns replied, motioning for Harry to sit down. "As is, I've already heard about your little excursion from other students and the Headmaster. Details vary but that is to be expected. I'm more interested in understanding your reasoning for going back in time the way you did, Harry."

"I'm… uh, well…"

"Take your time, Harry."

"Well, to be honest, I went back looking for some information. I wasn't even planning on being gone long, but I knew I needed to talk with someone about wand making."

"Wand making? What about our Mr. Ollivander in Diagon Alley?"

"It's kind of an independent study, sir, and I've already discussed it a bit with him, and he couldn't really tell me much which is why when I found a reference in a history book, I thought to go ask the source."

"And all this led to your interaction in saving a village from a goblin rebellion?"

"Er… somewhat. It's more of what I still need to do, sir."

"If I understand your meaning, young man, you are still slated to go back and do something even though you weren't originally slated to do something to begin with. Right?"

"Yeah. Sure. You betcha. But, sir, don't you think since I've already done it, am slated to do it, am going to do it, that I should do it?"

Binns let out a ghostly sigh. "Harry, this is precisely why Time Turners don't go any further than they do. It is also why I wanted you to take it slow when moving back in time. You are looking for a temporal loophole to validate your actions back in the past."

"But, sir, I can't just sit aside when we go back in time and not try to help those that I can. No, I understand that I can't change history or I'll muck it up more than it is. I understand that, I really do. But what I'm talking about is not changing history. I want to get involved where it's not involved. All of history isn't recorded after all."

"Harry, you certainly want to exploit your powers of time. Heh, you remind me of myself when I was young."

"And didn't you feel good when you helped those people when you interacted with history the first time?"

"Yes, Harry, I did. It felt good to be able to make a difference. I just don't want you to hurt anyone in the process. I want you to exercise caution since you could be stepping on what ultimately happens anyway."

"But who's to say that I wasn't there originally to create the cause and effect that ultimately leads to what we know?"

Binns looked at his apprentice and let out another ghostly sigh. "You are determined to do this. I can tell. I was once alive as well and remember the desire burning in me. I will not tell you no. You need to test the waters in the timestream so to speak. Just remember that when you go, use an anchor in real time that can watch over you."

"You sound just like my mother," Harry said with a grin.

"I imagine I do."

"Sir, what I'm thinking of on my next trip is to go back far enough in time that it's not very well recorded. Make sure it's not recorded very well at least."

"You certainly seem to have the power to do that, Harry. I thought the power drain of interacting with history would have sapped you far sooner than it did."

"Sir, have you ever countered the power drain? Or at least made it so it was an equal one-for-one temporal loss in downtime and uptime?"

Professor Binns removed his ghostly glasses, rubbed them and thought about what he was just asked. "To answer your question, yes I attempted to arrest the loss of time. It can be done but it's not easy. It does use your power up on a faster scale. You need to equalize the timestream around you prior to going back. I did this under a suggestion from a particularly smart… witch, and I was able to spend several hours with her in her current time before snapping back to the present."

"Were there any problems?"

"You mean other than the one that it was so draining that it left me magically weak for about a month until my reserves climbed back to normal?"

"Yes."

Professor Binns smiled briefly and replied, "No, no problems."

"Was it worth it? Going back in time and spending some time with a witch?"

"Oh yes, it was certainly worth it. Not that you'd understand it at your age, Harry. Perhaps when you're older."

They spoke about other things for a little longer, about scheduling some class trips to the past and a couple of pretty non-graphic goblin rebellions that were certain to give the political junkies of the class something to think about. And while Harry worked his schedule around the trips and thought of others to plan in the future, part of his mind held onto the hope for his next jaunt back in time based on what Binns and Safire had both said. Maybe instead of blowing off some steam next time, he could use his excess power and direct it into a time field.

**(((o)))**

As the weeks rolled on, classes settled down and became routine for the students. Harry continued to roll from class to class, mostly with the first years, but often with second and thirds. He continued to teach DADA spells during part of the week while allowing Quirrell to impart the theory (which he had to summarize in the next class prior to going over spell work). He would hit charms with his grade level and stay behind to help the next class or the class after that.

Potions became fun since he was now allowed to do whatever he felt like doing (within reason). For the most part, Professor Snape kept away from the apprentice. Both, however, knew enough to remain well enough away from Neville when he (and Ron/Rufus/Rodrick/Rupert) managed to blow up three more cauldrons.

Shortly into October, Harry moved houses yet again, this time going to Ravenclaw. Whereas Gryffindor had been boisterous, and Hufflepuff an exercise in solidarity, Ravenclaw was pretty much boring. Sure there were clubs he could go to, and other activities he could join, like Quidditch practice, but there wasn't much social interaction. Or at least there wasn't enough in his books. Maybe he was too Gryffindor in his ways for this house. Or perhaps this group were mostly bookworms for a reason.

By and large, they were mostly boring. They talked about schoolwork all the time. All the bloody time! Harry mused. That and jobs. There was more to life than school and jobs. There was living to do. People to see. Jokes to tell and pranks to pull. As is, the only people he could get interested in any sort of non-schoolish activity was Padma Patil and Terry Boot. Some of the other Ravenclaws that tried to get to know him mostly did it so they could have access to the library after hours (they hoped) or were trying to pick his brain for some easy answers (they wished).

But what bothered Harry the most about moving there was that when he tried to excuse himself out of whatever group had cloistered around him with the pretext of seeing his friends, they found more questions to badger him with, or threw requests at him to bring them study materials since he was going to the library anyway. Harry found ways to decline these requests (mostly by saying for the asker to get off his lazy bum and do it himself or he'd put him or her in detention), but it still bothered him that they didn't want him to see his other friends.

Harry couldn't help but think how Hermione would have grown as a person had she been put in that House. True, Gryffindor wasn't as ideal a place for her as Ravenclaw could be intellectually speaking, but Gryffindor did bring out her personality and in effect made her a more well-rounded person.

At the end of his two-week stint, Harry knew he wouldn't be coming back. He'd made some friends there and they were meeting him and his other friends in the library and Great Hall regularly, but he wasn't going to bunk in Ravenclaw again. That left Slytherin to try. But before he could do that, he needed to go back to Gryffindor if only for the weekend so he could officially be a Gryffindor while flying for them in the upcoming game.

**(((o)))**

Harry actually stayed for several weeks in Gryffindor. One reason he did this was to see how much he could rile up Neville and his thugs. Harry and Hermione held impromptu study sessions at night in the common room to help anyone that wasn't comfortable coming to the library after dinner to study. Parvati and Lavender sometimes participated, but mostly it was second and third years who joined in. Harry was not surprised that Ron didn't participate as the one thing that was the same here as it was in Harry's dimension was Ron was just downright lazy. It wasn't that he lacked intelligence (well, he had some smarts if little common sense), after all he could outplay anyone in chess. But other than chess and Quidditch, Ron's smarts were pretty much tapped out.

Neville was smart. He knew his spells even if he had difficulty performing them in class. Some things he knew well, other simple things he struggled with similar to Harry when he'd first attended Hogwarts. Harry sometimes wondered if he had limiters on his powers but when he'd gotten close to the boy in Herbology a few times he hadn't sensed a magical drain at all. Harry just chalked it up to his attitude interfering with his ability to learn.

At the end of the week, it was time for the first Quidditch game of the year. Harry thought he might actually perform better this go around than the last time since Quirrell wasn't out to get him. At least he hoped the professor wasn't out to get him. No, Harry was currently grading all papers in DADA from 1st-through-4th years so he was pretty sure the man wouldn't want to get rid of him just yet. If he did, then he'd have to go through the papers (that is, if he even did it the first time around).

A few odd things started happening during this time. Well, one wasn't so odd as it was expected: Snape's attitude towards taunting Neville took an upswing. Partly since the boy thought it would be funny to bring in some Snickerdoodles and put them on his desk similar to bringing an apple for a teacher. It didn't earn him any good graces and instead, the scrutiny he was placed under increased his jitters to the point where he exploded three more cauldrons. Harry could commiserate with what was happening to the boy, but he wasn't about to help him out considering he was as much a jerk as he was at the beginning of the school term.

The other odd thing was that several older girls started flirting with Harry. Now, Harry wasn't that good in the relationship department but did have eyes and did notice when a couple third year girls walking ahead of him "accidentally" dropped a quill and one of them bent down to pick it up, wiggling her rear all the while in front of the apprentice.

This had happened several times along with other similar incidents. It was getting to be too much and Harry tended to avoid those types of confrontations if he could help it. After all, dating anyone "his" age (i.e., 11-ish) was just too weird. They needed to be of legal age at least for him. His body was 11, but his mind was 18, and thinking of younger girls like that was just too "pervy". He was glad that his young body wasn't responding to these flirts, but he did find himself gazing more than once on some of the 6th and 7th year babes.

And when he did that, his body was starting to respond. Why, or why, couldn't something be normal for him? Just once.

**(((o)))**

While Harry shared his room with Neville and his crew, that didn't make him any part of their clique just as it hadn't when he'd stayed their earlier in the term. That didn't stop Neville from trying to include him in. Harry could only fathom that Neville was trying to get the two of them to be "friends" either to find a way to skim off his notes for homework assignments (like Harry was going to let that happen), or to show they were now chums and that Neville was again top dog of his environment since Harry had decided to become _HIS_ friend.

Harry's refusal to have anything to do with them put a crimp in that plan, but that didn't stop him from trying. As is, the morning of the Quidditch game, Neville and his boys approached Harry during breakfast. Neville even sat down in front of Harry, pushing (not roughly, but using a firm hand) Susan down the bench a bit so he could sit.

"Potter… Harry, look. We got off on the wrong foot. Let's let bygones by bygones and how about you taking my hand in friendship?" He held his right hand out towards Harry.

Harry looked at the hand, then looked at Neville's face. He really wanted it for some reason, but friendship wasn't it. Harry then laughed out loud. "You've got to be kidding me, Longbottom. Why would I want to be friends with a jerk?"

"Look, Potter, don't make the mistake of rejecting my friendship."

"What are you going to do' complain that we're not best buds? You know, I like to tell myself that I don't judge people at first appearance. I try to wait to see how they actually represent themselves. But you… you've acted like a jerk from the moment we met. I don't know what crawled up your bum and died, but I think you can take the pole out and come down to the ground and meet some really nice people. If not, you're the Boy-Who-Lived as you like to tell everyone. I'm sure you can find yourself _other_ friends."

Fuming, Neville got up from the Hufflepuff table and went back to the Gryffindor one.

Once he was out of earshot, Hermione said, "You know, maybe you should accept his friendship offer, Harry. He's certainly persistent about it."

Harry rolled his eyes and answered, "Why would I want to do that? He's a jerk."

"Well, they might make some trouble for you in the future."

"Ah, let them. I'll be ready. Maybe I'll assign some detentions. I hear Filch has some new fiendish tortures involving cleaning solutions, commodes, and sandpaper that he's looking to try out on students."

"Well, we'll watch out during Quidditch anyway, Harry. I just have a bad feeling about it." She looked at Neville who gave her and her friends a glare that said he was far from happy.

"You sure it's not the bacon? Seriously, don't worry about it. Neville is already in trouble from the broom incident. And did you hear what he did to Malfoy last week? They got into a fight in the hallway and used magic. Neville won, but got detention for it. Actually both are in detention for another couple weeks.

Ron shook his head and gave Harry and his friends his patented sneer. It looked like he was constipated, Harry thought.

-0-

As Harry made his way to the pitch, students he knew wished him well on his first match. This included older students, even Slytherins who he patiently explained concepts to in their Muggle Studies class. Gryffindor as a whole had a lot of students wishing they would crush the Slytherins if only to make their matches against them later on not as tough. But as always seemed to be the case, there were the exceptions to every rule. And that included some students who thought they were better than Harry. Well, to be fair, since he was a first year, most students thought they were better than him, apprentice or not. Those students tended to just snub him.

Harry didn't care about them at all. He was more concerned with the chasers on his team: Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. All older students who really didn't know what to expect from Harry as Wood had been the only one to train with him so far, they were withholding judgment on his performance, but were more than friendly to Harry – after all, he was their teammate, wasn't he?

Besides, he had stopped a potentially bullying session from getting out of control the other day, Angelina thought, when Flint had tried to intimidate the three girls in the halls. Apparently Flint, Adrian Pucey, and Miles Bletchley all thought they could try to out-psych the girls and browbeat them at the same time. There was no psychical altercation between the two groups, but the underlying threat was there.

"Flint, jerkwad-one, jerkwad-two. Why are you trying to make these girls cry?" he had said, stepping between the two groups.

"Stay out of this, Potter. It doesn't involve you," Flint said with a snide attitude.

"You sure? Because it seems to me that you're trying awful hard to get these three ladies all riled up so they won't be as effective in the game tomorrow. And since I'm on their team, I thought I should say something so you'd know we were onto your little ploy. That way we can all save some time and you and your two palsies can go back to your room and do whatever it is you three do there. But don't tell me because I'm on a strict no need to know list. Don't ask, don't tell, that's my motto."

"What are you on about, Potter?" Bletchley said.

"I'm on about you three girls leaving these three ladies alone. So how about it? Hop on back to your rooms now, that's it. Shoo."

Of course, the three Slytherins didn't move at all. Other than to pull their wands out so the Gryffindors and apprentice could see them.

"Flint, Flint, Flint. You've got to understand something. You consider me a first year. That's fine. But I'm an apprentice. Not an apprentice to just first years, but to everyone. That means I theoretically have more than enough knowledge to stun all three of you enough so that it's possible you'd miss the game tomorrow. And I'd had to show you up now in favor of being able to really show you up there. Now, what's it going to be? Do I stun you here and now, or let you walk away so we can all enjoy the game tomorrow?"

After a tense minute Flint motioned the others to put their wands away and with a glare reminiscent of their head of house, he and the other two boys strode off in a different direction.

"Thanks, Harry," Katie had said for the girls.

"No problem-o. What're teammates for? We watch each other's backs."

And now a day later Harry had found them as they were ready to head out the castle and walked with them to the changing rooms.

"Nervous, Harry?" Angelina asked.

"A little. More excited than anything. I'm looking to fly."

"You'll certainly get your chance," Alicia put in. "And, thanks again for yesterday."

An hour later the teams were on the field looking at their opponents. Some parents were in the stands with the houses their kids were in. He managed to catch a glimpse of his entire family, plus Sirius and his family, and Remus in the teacher stands. Actually playing in front of them made him more nervous than playing at all.

He kept his emotions out of it and applied some additional power to maintaining his mental shields. He needed to remain calm.

Moments later after the obligatory play nice and have a fair game (which no one in their right mind thought was going to happen at all), all the players and Madame Hooch were in the air. Harry was on his Nimbus; he had wanted to use his Firebolt, but not only was that broom not known here, it was also a reality away.

-0-

"And the Quaffle is taken by Angelina Johnson; what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too."

"Jordan!"

There were some giggles in the crowd.

"Sorry, Professor!" Lee said apologetically, but didn't sound like he meant it.

"Chaser Alicia Spinnet intercepts Marcus Flint's shot, rather spectacular actually. Wow, Slytherin hasn't improved much have they?"

"Jordan!" McGonagall screeched.

"Anyway, look at Gryffindor go, Wow, Harry Potter you sure know how to play Quidditch, he's intercepting every Slytherin play they are dishing out! Ouch, one of the Slytherin Chasers has just been hit on the head by a Bludger by a Weasley. Don't know which one. Yes, the Weasley's are known to be legendary in Quidditch. What foul? Penalty shot to Slytherin?! Why? Whatever. Anyway, they shoot… and yes! Wood blocks it! Quaffle is immediately taken by Alicia. She's being pursued. Come on Weasleys, hit him on the head… ouch, I said head, not right between the legs! But that'll do. Nice shot there Weasleys," Jordan commented.

"Jordan!" McGonagall shouted.

"Sorry Professor, oh look Alicia Spinnet scores another goal! Another 10 points to Gryffindor! Look at the newest player in Gryffindor go, everyone. That boy certainly knows how to ride a broom. He almost looks like a professional up there. I bet the Slytherins are thinking they wished they were more like him. He's smart, has confidence, is certainly powerful enough, and can certainly ride that broom. Unlike most of the Slytherin team…"

"Lee Jordan!"

"Sorry Professor, you know how it is, oh wait, what is Harry doing? He's abandoning his strategy; he's after the snitch! Go Harry!"

The moment the game started, Harry had zoomed up and knew he could have a greater impact disrupting the game than in simply looking for the snitch for the next half hour. He flew around intercepting every play he could. It was annoying the heck out of the Slytherins. Several times he'd gotten the finger but he just brushed it off; he saw how the Weasley's who were inspired by Jordan's commenting and continue to swing their bats like mad men.

After nearly a half hour of playing, Higgs began taunting Harry. Seeing as how the seeker could handle the position, Harry decided to kick the game up a notch. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Higgs was eyeing him closely and staying just behind his bristles. With a look of sudden concentration, Harry immediately dove and pushed his broom to the limit. He was taking turns and spins like crazy, as if chasing the snitch.

"Harry Potter is after the snitch!" Immediately everyone stopped what they were doing and watched as the Slytherin Seeker followed. Everybody watched Harry as he performed a couple amazing dives, acrobats, and turns while chasing the Snitch. Wood was impressed by his flying. It showed him having spent quite some time in the air. Harry slowed down purposely so Higgs could follow. When he was close enough Harry led him to the stands and pulled out at the last second. The Slytherin seeker Terrace Higgs slammed straight into the stands.

Silence...

"Oh my god! That was a beautiful feint! A Wronski feint! Who would believe that? I didn't know he could do that! I mean, he said he could the other day in front of Professor Snape, but I thought he was just kidding. I don't believe it, it was all a fake all this time! The youngest Seeker in two centuries is showing some unbelievable skill. I guess Harry Potter is living up to his father's reputation!" Jordan enthused.

Lee Jordan wasn't the only one shocked at Harry's performance. His father had just watched his son, the same son who hadn't showed any interest in playing Quidditch in… well, ever, playing in his first Quidditch game. And that same son had just performed a professional Quidditch move. His shocked expression mirrored that of the Sirius and Remus who understood what Harry had just done.

Lily, however, was scowling at his recklessness. Amy was trying to calm the youngest children so they didn't run off on a sugar-high.

Wood giggled like mad and cheered with the rest of the Gryffindor team as Harry took his position back up in the sky.

Harry smiled and waved at Commentary box. Jordan waved back.

"Excellent move Harry! Wait, there's a time out for Slytherin. It seems the Slytherin Seeker, Higgs-something-or-other is badly injured. I don't blame him. That had to hurt. Oh wait! Someone else is injured! Who is that?" Lee said.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, is part of the danger coming from chasing someone who can pull off a spectacular feint that Harry Potter just did. Apparently the Slytherin Seeker lost control at the last moment and crashed the stands. I hope whoever he hit is all right. I can't see from here yet, folks, but as soon… wait. I can see the injured person now. Oh, no, it's a professor. Higgs has hit a professor. Poor Professor Quirrell, he looks to be a little worse for wear. Good thing is he's being levitated out of the stands and I've just been told he'll be taken to the infirmary and I'm sure he'll be okay. Who knows, it might even fix his stutter."

"Jordan!"

"Or not. Anyway, it looks like Slytherin is conferring and… yes, Higgs is going to continue playing even though it looks like his arm has been set spelled to stay in place by his shoulder. You know, I may not like Slytherin since they are a bunch of gormless gits who couldn't play fair if their lives depended on it," Jordan started.

"Jordan!"

He smiled at the professor. "But I have to admire the grit and determination of Higgs. He's got to be hurting with that injury."

Harry was impressed with Higgs as well. Of course, the foul meter with the Slytherins rose as they started pulling every foul they could when Hooch was looking in different directions.

Flint tried several times to take out Wood, but failed when Harry would deliberately upset his broom handling when he flew under the Slytherin, rotated upside down, and kicked the man in the shins. The third time he did this, Hooch caught him and awarded Slytherin a penalty shot. Flint actually made that shot but it had cost him. Now he knew they had another threat to worry about than just bludgers.

And Harry wasn't done with surprises either. It was always possible to pull a Seeker from their position and insert another Chaser. That allowed more scoring opportunities, but greatly reduced the possibility that your Seeker would be the one who caught the snitch. Of course, if you were up over 150 points on the other team, it really didn't matter.

After another time out, Flint rallied his team and soon enough their beaters started aiming for the Chasers like mad. Gryffindor's Chasers barely had enough time to dodge the bludgers on several occasions. If it hadn't been for George and Fred pounding the balls back, Harry was sure one of the girls would have been sporting a broken arm by now.

Harry decided it was time to go on the offensive and as soon as Pucey had the Quaffle, Harry raced underneath him and then shot up, knocking it out of his hands and into the waiting arms of Alicia, who then raced to the Slytherin hoops.

Immediately the other Slytherin Chasers gave chase, but Harry kicked his broom into gear and soon overtook Alicia who handed off the Quaffle to Harry.

Everyone in the stands was shocked to see a Seeker holding the Quaffle. Only Wood wasn't surprised, he and Harry had discussed this situation when he felt it his duty to explain the game to Harry. True, they hadn't practiced it, but had discussed it. It's not every day you see that. And the best part; it wasn't even against the rules either.

"What the hell? Potter's got the Quaffle! I have never seen a Seeker helping out friendly Chaser! Is this legal in school matches?!"

Harry approached the Keeper, made a feint and could have scored, but instead he threw it hard at the Keeper's broom. Bletchley lost balance and fell off. He hit the ground hard with a sickening crunch. The keeper wasn't getting up anytime soon, especially with his leg bent at that odd angle.

"Holy crap!"

"Good graci ... Jordan!"

"That was deliberate! Jiminy Christmas, Potter... you play rough! But what a play! Did he miss to goal, or did his shot to towards the intended target? Whatever the case, go Potter!" Jordan screamed into the microphone while dancing away from McGonagall who tried to yank the Microphone from him. "Show them what Gryffindor is made out of! Kick their slimy arses! Oh, right. Penalty to Slytherin."

The penalty shot was intercepted by Wood who then called for a time-out.

When the Gryffindor's were on the ground his team spoke.

"Damn Harry, you're a monster," Katie said excitedly.

"Damn straight, keep doing this and we'll have so many points, our next game wouldn't matter if we win or not," Wood exclaimed.

True enough, looking at the scoreboard Harry noticed it was 270-20. They were killing them. He didn't even notice they were that high.

"Harry, you need to end this now so we could get the points for the snitch. If they forfeit now, we won't get it. Hurry up and catch it. We'll deal with the rest!" Wood said excited.

"Calm down, Oliver; we're excited too. I can just taste it: our first win against Slytherin in years." Angelina was as excited as Wood. Fred and George grinned like mad.

Harry nodded. Yeah he better wrap this game up.

Hooch blew the whistle for everyone to get back in position. Slytherin lost a Chaser and a Keeper, and their Seeker had a broken shoulder.

Harry decided to catch the snitch now. Slytherin team was badly injured. He was surprised they didn't forfeit after that time-out. 'Must be their pride.' Harry thought. So Harry looked for the snitch.

**5 Minutes Later... **

When Harry saw it, he was already in a middle of another feint. He flowed out of smoothly, making Higgs thing he was smart for not following that time. Harry then quickly zoomed across in front of one of the Slytherin Chasers (who freaked out thinking Harry was aiming for him). Higgs wasn't sure if Harry was feinting again. He had seen how Potter performed feint after feint. It was too much. This time when he looked closer, he noticed it really was the snitch! He tried to follow Harry who was chasing it, but it was too late. Harry caught it!

The crowd exploded with cheers. Well… most of the crowd.

Lee shouted into the microphone, "And Harry Potter catches the Snitch! Gryffindor Wins by the margin 460-20. A major upset to Slytherin. What a slaughter by Harry Potter and the Gryffindor team."

When they touch back down, the team immediately congratulated him.

"That was wicked win!" Fred announced.

"Even if we lose the next game, we'll probably still be leading in points!" George commented.

"Yeah, we kicked their cans!" Angelina cheered.

"You know, you can swear if you want to, Angelina," Fred smirked.

"Quiet you. This is Harry's moment."

"Man if felt good seeing that they are the ones that are injured this time! We didn't have a single person from our team sent to the Hospital," Alicia agreed.

"Damn straight!" Katie Bell yelled.

Harry laughed.

Wood was silent. The whole team gave him an odd look. Suddenly his demeanor change to an ecstatic smile. He cheered while hugging Harry fiercely. The whole team followed. The Gryffindor's were running across the field to meet them while they cheered and hugged.

-0-

Following the game, there was a party in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was absent as it got started as he spent some time with his family on the pitch. The day was cool but not terribly cold. Besides, being magical, his parents heated up a section of the seats so they could enjoy their conversation. The stands were empty other than for them.

"Wow, Harry, that was some bloody wicked playing," Sirius commented.

"Sirius! Language!" Amy admonished her husband.

"Wow kid, I didn't think you were that good. I never even suspected you were that good," James said looking at his son proudly.

"Thanks, dad. I just put my heart into playing a good game."

"A wicked game more like," Sheila said.

"True," Leon replied.

Lily gave her son a disapproving look. "Harry I'm ashamed of seeing you playing like that. You purposely injured them. You sent two of them to the hospital wing!"

"Um… well, they started it."

"Yeah, Lily, it was the Slytherins after all," Sirius backed him up. "They always start it."

"Well," Harry countered, "not always, Sirius. But in this instance, they did. Especially Flint. He was a real wanker the other day."

"Harry, language," Lily reproached. "And anyway, honey, look at what you did. You turfed one into the stands, breaking his shoulder and knocking cold a professor. And another you broke a leg."

"Ahhh forget mum, that was a great game bro," Shelia said excitedly. "You should give us tips on how you play!"

Leon and Rose nodded like mad. What they saw had impressed them. Their older brother performed a Wronkski feint. A professional move! When had he grown up and why hadn't they seen it happening?

Sylvia didn't understand yet, she knew how to fly, but she didn't understand Quidditch. She just cheered and nodded along her brother and sisters. Little Lily was giggling when she saw Harry. Harry began to tickle her; she laughed and kissed her brother on the cheek in greeting.

"You know Harry, if this reaches the ears of the Quidditch Junior League teams, they might attend your next Quidditch game to see your skill. I hope you'll become a Quidditch player after school! Man, you might even get to play Quidditch while you're in school!" Leon had a glassy look to his eyes while envisioning this type of situation for himself.

Harry then got a quick update on home life and knowing that a party was underway that his son would probably want to attend, his father began to gather up the families and make their departure for home. Harry walked them to the gates of Hogwarts and as his family gave him a hug one at a time, Jasmine got in line. When it came to her turn, she hugged him hard and then kissed him on the cheek, quickly moving behind her mother to cover her flaming face. Harry was gob smacked.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Sirius said to Harry just loud enough for Jasmine (along with everyone else since he really wasn't being quiet about it) to hear: "I know my daughter's kiss was a surprise, Harry, but there's no need to freeze in shock at being kissed by a beautiful girl."

Harry had to admit, that girl was brave to plant a kiss on him like that. For some reason he didn't look at her like that, she was more of a sister to him. Plus they had the body of little kids. He had a mind of an 18-year old; he couldn't picture a sexy look of a 9 or 10 year old. That was child molesting. And he wasn't a perv.

He had to admit though, when Jasmine got older (like legal age), she was going to be a sexy little thing with her pale blonde hair; maybe by then he wouldn't mind dating her. They said their goodbyes and Harry made his way back to the castle.

Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. He noticed a lot of people were partying. They were greeting him wondering where he was. The Gryffindor girl Chaser's gave him kisses on the cheek for such a good game.

"I was with my family. They wanted to congratulate me on my first Quidditch game," Harry responded.

Everyone nodded and told him it was a wicked game. If nothing else, the game they played showed Slytherin one thing. Don't mess with Harry Potter.

**(((o)))**

On Harry's 16th birthday, he came into his shadow abilities. Not that he understood everything, just that his power took an upward surge. It took some time coming to terms with these abilities, and even more conversations with Uncle Nick and Aunt Pernelle before he could make heads or tails of what he _could_ do and what he _should_ do. Of all the abilities he had since found and examined, the best by far was his ability to shadow travel.

For one thing, it allowed him to go from point A to point B without landing on his rear end. Unlike taking a portkey or apparating.

Harry planned on staying in the Gryffindor tower until after Halloween. He had thought about moving earlier but a few comments overheard from some uppers who mumbled (loudly in his opinion) to one another that on Halloween they were going to check out the Forbidden Corridor for fun. So Harry decided to stick around if only to keep them out of trouble, or kick their rears in case they decided to check that corridor out. The other reason he thought of staying behind, and the most important one by far, was to make sure Hermione wasn't accosted by a brainless troll this time around.

The week leading up to Halloween Harry spent part of each night shadow walking around the castle. He visited the room where Dumbledore had squirreled away the Mirror of Erised. When he looked into it, all he saw was a yellow light. He gave it a little thought and all he could come up with was that since he'd looked into the mirror while still in his shadow form, it picked up something to show him he needed some light. That, or someone had walked into the room and turned on a light before Harry made his retreat. It didn't matter for Harry didn't give it any more thought. He had what he wanted. A family.

_A family that didn't belong to you, _a nagging thought prickled at the base of his skull.

Harry shook his head clear and continued with his examinations. Albus and the rest of the staff had been busy and their traps had already been implemented. Now that Harry thought about it, he guessed there had to be more than one troll on duty in there in case someone came towards its location, it wouldn't do to have the troll missing because it had gone to the loo would it?

Harry began to examine all the traps and puzzles that were there. He knew what they were from the first time around, but he was certain the staff must have put in something that allowed them to circumnavigate around the challenges rather than have to go through each one every time. It took him a little time, and a little shadow sight to see the things that didn't belong there but found them he did.

_So what was a powerful Shadow Mage to do in a situation like this?_ he asked himself. _Why, put on a few more protections, that's what,_ he grinned at himself in answer to his silent question. The first thing he did was place a different locking charm on the door that recognized if the caster was a student or an adult. It wouldn't keep out Quirrell, but it would keep out a few first years. Better they have to spend a night in detention than get a few fingers bitten off by Fluffy.

The mornings leading up to the 31st were also a bit tense in Harry's mind. He was in a different dimension – and anything could happen. His friend could still get harmed. H needed to keep an eye on Hermione. He was certain that if anything were going to happen, it would happen to her. She was as much a nexus as he was. Fortunately, Ron Weasley wasn't a nexus here. About the only thing they shared in common was that they were in the same house and shared the same classes. She was ever the optimist and even tried to help him during Charms, but he wasn't having any of it. Harry did notice, however, that she wasn't getting as emotionally troubled by it this go around since she already knew he was a friend, as were others in different houses. She and Padma had actually started studying something together the other day.

His friends thought his mood was him not wanting to get another Howler from his mother going on about how smart his is or even trying to get him to transfer to another grade level. They didn't want this for one specific reason: Harry was their friend and if he went to another grade level, he might not be in their classes anymore.

As is, Harry had gotten several more letters from his mother who had gone on and on about being so proud and excited for him. And that he'd better not have been traveling back in time without a spotter or he'd regret it. And she wasn't sorry about sending him that howler – it was her way of getting back at him for not letting her know how smart he'd been all these years.

Morning post was underway and Harry looked up, happy to see Lost and happier still when he saw the bloody bird wasn't carrying a red envelope.

**(((o)))**

**Thursday, October 31****st****, Halloween, Hogwarts' Dungeons, during the Feast**

In the dark corridor, Professor Quirrell walked ahead of a troll, trying to keep it a little quiet as he let it out of its shackles and out of the dungeons where it could cause dismemberment, death, and destruction – the 3-D's in his book.

"Now remember, beast, you are to kill as many students as you can. Create as much confusion as you can. I want chaos to rule the houses!"

"Urr… offer to fill out their tax forms for a nominal fee… got it."

"No, no, no, beast. This has nothing to do with taxes! You will do as I command! Chaos! Confusion! Killings! The three C's of life!" (Hey, no one ever said he was good as spelling.) "I want all of this!"

"Urrr… tell them I'm a lawyer and have some papers for them?"

"No, no, no! Good try, but it lacks the finality that killing the children will have. Now, what are you going to do again? Hmmm?" Quirrell cocked his head to the side and put his fists on his waist as he looked up at the large troll.

"Urrr… offer them a cup of tea but then say I don't have any?"

"No, no, no! Blast it, beast! You're not paying attention!"

"Urrr… what's my motivation again?"

"Aaarrrgh!" _This is worse than when I was a student here and that pesky girl kept asking me to run and kick a ball that she was holding,_ he thought. _A little crucio after the third time she whisked it away before I could kick it certainly did wonders for my mood. Too bad I can't use that curse on this beast. His hide protects him. As does his low brain power._

"Urrr… you know, you're not very good at this. If you're going to manage dangerous creatures like myself, you've got to know how they tick and all."

"You're a mindless killing machine! Telling you to have at it should be all I need to do to have you go on a killing spree!" Isn't it?

"Urr… I went to school, you know. I wanted to go to dental school after I graduated and be a hygienist but I was told there wasn't any need for a troll working on teeth by my guidance counselor. And that I should look for a job as a bouncer at a bar, pub, or strip joint."

"And does that make you angry?"

"Urrr… yes. I don't drink so I don't want to work at a pub, club, or any other drinking establishment. I wanted to work on bringing bright smiles to the world."

"Good, good. Use that. It was the kids who told your guidance counselor that no one wanted a troll dentist."

"Urrr… hygienist."

"Whatever. The kids told you that you couldn't do are just like these kids here. Does that make you angry? Angry enough to want to kill them all?"

"Urrr… yes, it's a start. But if I had some vanilla ice cream I'd be okay and my mood swing would go away."

"Sorry, beast, but Hogwarts doesn't have any more vanilla. Only strawberry these days. All the kids ate the vanilla ice cream just today in fact."

"Urrr… no vanilla?! That makes me so angry! Hulk smash!"

Professor Quirrell guided his enraging troll out of the dungeons and up some stairs to the ground level. Soon he would leave the beast and run to the Grand Hall where he'd announce the troll was loose, then collapse, letting all the students and staff run to safety. Then he'd go see how to get past that first protection that fool Dumbledore put on the stone. Then he'd have his life back – and immortality once again!

"Remember, beast, those same children ate all the vanilla ice cream! Lapped it up one might say. They even threw some of it away once they'd had a bite, saying they were lactose intolerant."

"Rarrr!"

"They laughed while eating it, not even thinking of the troll here who wanted a bowl of its creamy goodness to slake his aching urges!"

"Rarrr!"

"Now remember: the three c's! Chaos! Confusion! Kill!"

"Rarrr?!"

"No vanilla ice cream!"

"Rarrr!!!"

"Eeeeekk!"

Quir-riddle whipped his turbaned head around and immediately spied the four second-year students who had just turned a corner on their way to the Great Hall. The three girls and one boy all had equal startled expression on their faces.

"Professor! Look out! There's a big hairy man with a club behind you!"

"Vanilla ice cream!"

"Rarrr!"

"Paul, you save the professor!" He must be too startled to think right as he's spouting nonsense now! Robin, you, Felicity and myself use that spell apprentice Potter taught us the other day! We've got to save the poor man!"

"Right!" Paul Dattatreya, a 2nd year Ravenclaw said, rushing towards Professor Quirrell and tackling him to the ground and out of the way of the big, hairy, scary man.

The three young witches raised their wands and incanted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The strength of the three witches' spells combined to rip the club out of the troll's hands and levitate it to the ceiling.

"Rarrr?!" the troll looked up at his club in confusion.

"Now what, Kira?" Felicity Felixia (also a 2nd year Ravenclaw) said.

Kira Bartholomew (a 2nd year Gryffindor) immediately came up with a solution. "Give me control of the club, girls. I have an idea!"

"Letting up… now," Robin Conner (also a 2nd year Gryffindor) informed her. Kira immediately felt the addition of club's weight to her spell.

"All yours," Felicity cut the power of her spell.

"Professor! Quit struggling! You don't know what you're doing!"

"Ice cream!"

"Rarrr!"

BAM! BAM-BAM!

Kira took control of the floating club and used it to wallop the troll several times on the head. "Leave that poor professor alone! He's very confused these days!"

"Ice cream! Ice cream!"

BAM!

The glassy-eyed troll wobbled and staggered a couple steps.

"Kira! The professor's free! I couldn't hold him any longer!"

"What?!"

This startled Kira's attention and as her gaze went from the big hairy man to the now-free professor, so did the club's motion move from whacking the troll to head to where she was now looking. Regrettably, the club was already on a downward motion.

BAM!

The now glassy-eyed professor wobbled and staggered a couple steps and bumped into the big hairy man.

Professor Quirrell, the smaller of the two, fell over first, mostly unconscious except for that nagging little itch in the back of his turban that knew something was wrong. The folds of the turban shifted a bit and Riddle was able to see the large troll take one more staggered step before falling over with a loud thump.

Right on top of him.

"Kira, you think Professor Quirrell is okay with that big hairy guy on him?"

"I think so," she replied to Paul. "He's still breathing at least."

"Good thinking, Kira," Felicity complimented. "How did you ever think to use that spell on that big hairy man?"

"Well when I saw him, our DADA class lesson from yesterday popped into my head. For some reason I just thought of what apprentice Potter said about using everyday spells to disable opponents. He even talked about what to do in case you ever met a troll in a hallway. Useful idea he had, I have to give him credit for that."

"I wonder what a troll looks like," Robin said, looking at the two sleeping forms.

"Well, whatever they look like," Paul commented, holding his nose, "I hope they smell better than that big hairy guy. He really stinks."

"C'mon, guys," Kira started. "We better find another professor and report we stopped a burglar."

"A big, hairy, stinky burglar," Paul put in.

"You said it," Felicity agreed.

"You know, I feel kind of bad about knocking Professor Quirrell out with that club. You think we should bring him some ice cream in the infirmary when he's better?"

"Don't see why not," Robin said. "He must like it since he kept saying it over and over."

"Oh, I just had a great idea! Let's get him some vanilla ice cream…"

"…rarr?"

BAM!

"Right. Let's get some vanilla ice cream and some Gummy worms to put in it. I'm sure he'd like it."

"What're Gummy worms?"

"Oh, you pure-bloods crack me up," Kira grinned at her friends. "After the feast, I'll give you some. I've got some back in my room that I brought from home."

**(((o)))**

**Friday, November 1st, Gryffindor Common Room**

Harry sat in one of the chairs looking at the embers of the fire. It was nearly 3am and he couldn't help but think what could have happened to the students who had encountered the troll. He was so focused on Hermione thinking that she was the nexus here for the troll that he didn't even consider anyone else meeting the troll first. He had planned on simply blasting its head off and obliviating anyone who saw him do it. Or maybe not. He didn't know now.

What he did know is that while glad that his lessons in DADA had paid off for those students, he needed to quit clowning around and get off his duff. He needed to work on a way to get rid of Quirrell without anyone noticing it was him. He could simply shoot the professor with a redactor, but then the school would be crawling with aurors and an air of fear would start up. Harry certainly didn't want that as eventually it would get on his nerves and something would happen to give his abilities away.

No, he needed to come up with a better plan. Something to get rid of the man and make it look like an accident or…

Neville.

He needed to get Neville involved. After all, it was time for the little monkey to start living up to his reputation.

**(((o)))**

**Saturday, November 9****th****, Slytherin Common Room**

Harry decided to wait until a week into November before trying out the Slytherin digs. That way they might have calmed down from the shellacking they'd received during the game.

Being an apprentice meant Harry was keyed into all the houses and had an override password like the teachers used. As he entered the common room, immediately all eyes there centered on him. It was mid morning and the room wasn't full, but there were still plenty of students. Draco Malfoy was sitting in a chair reviewing a book when Harry walked in.

Draco caught Harry's eye and arched his eyebrow as if to ask if he was here to stay for a bit.

Harry nodded slightly and Draco got up to explain a few things to the apprentice. And maybe get the inside scoop on the winking conspiracy. If he could get that one solved, then he could again concentrate on finding out why those pesky house elves kept hiding his socks.

"Moving in today?" Draco commented as Harry met him in the middle of the room.

Harry nodded. "Just for a few weeks. I want to see if I like this house any better than the others."

"You do know we have an initiation to spring on you, right?"

"Does it involve me getting spanked with a paddle and having to say, 'Thank you sir, may I have another?'"

"No."

"That's good. Because I'm not into that."

"Don't tell Flint that because I'm sure he'd want to try it out. Guy's a total wanker."

Harry smiled. This Draco was so unlike the one he'd first met. "So I've noticed. I take it the initiation will be magical?"

"Of course," Draco sniffed.

"Same type sprung on every incoming first year?"

Draco shook his head slightly. "Actually, some of the prefects speculated you would have been here sooner than now and went so far as to prepare some particularly vindictive spell clusters to send your way."

Harry feigned his hurt. "Why? What did I ever do to them?"

Draco understood the jibe. "Harry, really. Don't you recall the Slytherin/Gryffindor match? You know, where you beat all of our players up."

"They started it."

"I'm sure they did. And it was a wonderful learning opportunity for them, but now that you're here, they want you to pay for their embarrassment."

"So how long does this initiation go on for?"

"I could lie and say for an hour, but since I like your style, I'll tell you the truth. It's probably going to go on for about a half hour."

"How long is the initiation for 1st years?"

"Usually takes less than a minute seeing as they don't know how to defend themselves from the stingers. You, however, have a reputation already of knowing shields."

"And what am I supposed to do during all this time?"

"Why, survive of course."

"Who should I look out for most of all?"

Draco turned and indicated an older student with black short black hair talking animatedly to a group of four other boys. "My guess would be Max Graile, a 6th year prefect whose family is really into dueling. After Slytherin's defeat in the game, he spelled the team to double their weight for an entire day. He said it was apparent they weren't in good enough shape and needed to lose some of their baby fat to play competitively. He's okay most of the time, but when it comes to dueling, he wants to win in the worst way."

"Any helpful hints?"

Draco began to move away as Harry noticed that more Slytherin students (particularly the 7th year students) came into the common room, wands drawn. Max and the other students moved apart to better surround him. It wasn't hard since he was in the center of the common room (where he'd intended to be after all).

"If you want to end this hazing quickly, do it in Slytherin style to gain their respect. Otherwise, you might find yourself repeating this a couple more times before your two weeks are up."

After Draco moved out of the way, Harry decided to play the upcoming fight like a training exercise and snapped his head back, letting out a maniacal laugh that was partly intended to allay his nerves, and also intended to strike some uncertainty to his attackers. The spells (stunners first) then came in.

Harry threw a silent shield up which ricocheted the spells back towards other casters who dived for cover. Moments later the entire room went black. Spells continued to light up the area when they were shot, but mostly, no one could see where Potter was.

As is, he floated himself up to the ceiling to get out of the way. He decided to have some fun with the shooters through.

"Lumos! Lumos!" a voice said, failing to light the area any further than six centimeters out from his wand. "We're shooting blind here, Max! I can't dispel this darkness!"

"Aim for the center! Aim for the center!" a voice that Harry recognized shouted.

"What do you think I'm already doing, Flint? Stupefy!"

"Ow. Oh, that's going to hurt," Harry smirked from the ceiling. "Oh woe is me, how am I ever going to survive?"

"You got him!" Flint yelled. "Jenkins, you next! Aim for the center."

"Everbero!" a voice more suited for whispering shouted.

"Ooooh, you shot me!" Harry said.

"Everbero!" Flint fired to where he thought Harry was.

"Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. I'm hurt. Please stop. Oh me, oh my."

"We got him!" Flint whooped in joy.

"Freeze him in place," a voice commanded with more steel in it than Harry would have thought.

"Right, Max," a new voice said. "Petrificus Toltalus!"

"Oh you got me again! How will I ever get through this?"

"We got him, we got him!" Flint whooped again.

"Shut up you idiots!" Max commanded. "Quiet I said!"

The room quieted down.

"Potter!"

"Yes, Max?"

"You hurt?"

"Will you stop if I say yes?"

"No."

"Then I'm not hurt. Please, continue firing. I'm finding this enjoyable."

"Somebody dispel this darkness!" Max commanded, moving to his right so Potter wouldn't be able to get a bead on where he just was.

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the past 10 minutes?!" yet another unnamed voice said in exasperation.

Harry thought he better go on the offensive, if only to keep things interesting. "Spiculum!"

"Ouch!" Flint yelled, holding his face. "Blast it, that hurt, Potter!"

"And what you've been trying to do to me would have felt enjoyable?"

Max said, "It's just a stinging hex, Flint. Toughen up a bit."

"You try thinking that when he gets off a lucky shot and hits you right between the eyes."

"Spiculum!"

"Ouch! Damn it, now he just got me right between the eyes," Jenkins complained.

"Crap!" Max exclaimed. "Duck and cover, people! He can see in this darkness! He can see!"

"Right you are, Max! Spiculum! Spiculum! Spiculum!"

Harry shot the others and then added a fourth stinger back at Flint's unprotected rear.

"Impedimenta! Expelliarmus! Give up yet, Graile?"

"Where are his shots coming from?" Max asked his compatriots.

"We can't see!" Flint answered.

"Track the color of his spells!" Jenkins offered.

"That's just it, there aren't any!" another voice supplied.

And indeed Harry had been firing his spells from his wand and keeping an aura of darkness around each spell fired if only to see if he could do it. And seeing as how his vision wasn't affected by the darkness in the room, he started picking off each caster one by one.

Max had had enough. "Check fire! Check fire!"

"What's that mean?" Flint asked in confusion.

"It means to stop firing everyone. Potter!"

"Yes, Max?"

Max grumbled for a moment and then said, "….Pax!"

"Hazing is over then?"

"Yes."

"No!" Flint put in. "What about what he did to us in the game?!"

"Get over it, Flint. He has the superior tactical advantage over us. How about it, Potter?"

"I'm going to spend a couple weeks here. If you want to have some more duels, let me know. This was kind of fun."

Suddenly the room was lit again and everyone blinked away the spots in their eyes, looking for the apprentice. Max noticed him first standing on the ceiling, looking down at everyone.

Flint was next to see him and raised his wand to take a shot.

Graile noticed this and shot a body bind at the Quidditch captain. "I said pax, Flint. The fight is over. Got it?"

"For you maybe…" Flint ground out, struggling.

"For everyone. He's in. Or do you want to go a couple rounds with me later on?"

"…fine, he's in. But if he steps out of line," Flint tried to be menacing. His breath was more menacing than his glare.

"Then he's yours," Max replied, releasing him. He then turned to the descending Harry. "Welcome to Slytherin, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks, Mr. Graile. A pleasure to be here."

And as Harry found out, not all Slytherins were idiots or maniacally bent on serving a dark lord. Contrary to a Weasley's belief, there were some who actually wanted a better life and to make a name for themselves. The house was for the ambitious, the cunning. It wasn't necessarily for the evil. Sometimes ambition went hand-in-hand with evil, as it did for the other houses.

In the next couple weeks, Harry found that his prejudices against the house mostly started with his original negative assessment of Malfoy, and the bias felt against Slytherin from Ron. Now that he had a chance to see what was what and make up his own mind, he found that there were people he liked from every house… and consequently people he didn't like from every house.

Max Graile was someone he grew to like. Not quite a friend, but definitely not an opponent. They dueled several more times, this time in specific conditions set to improve each of them. Harry enjoyed himself during these duels and Max found himself learning a trick or two from the apprentice and his arsenal of household charms that he used. Especially the one where after sending a potentially harmful spell his way, he used a quick charm to wax the floor so Max would lose his footing. After the second time, Max got the hint and became a little more careful with his footing thereafter.

**(((o)))**

**Sunday, November 17****th****, the Owlery**

"Stupid bird," Harry muttered as he trooped up to the aviary, located in one of the furthest towers from the Great Hall. Just 30 minutes earlier Lost had brought him his letters from his family and he'd instructed the owl to remain behind while he dug his letters out of his bag so he could take them home. But did the bloody owl listen to him?

Of course not!

Ruddy thing caught wind of another owl and off he flew in chase of her. Harry could have sworn that owl had the mating instincts of Sirius when he was younger. The blasted bird certainly didn't listen to him or heed any of his commands, suggestions, or pleadings like Hedwig did.

Man, he really missed that bird.

"Whuh!" a voice yelped ahead of him.

So engrossed in his own grumbling, he had failed to take in his situation and consequently was unprepared when a body came falling towards him.

Fortunately, the steps leading up zig-zagged and he was on a landing. Thinking fast, he wandlessly threw up a cushioning field on the platform and then braced himself for the impact. Moments later he caught the person.

Or more like the person caught him and they both went down in the cushioning field. And even with good Quidditch reflexes, the problem with bodies meeting that way means body parts don't always normally end up where they should be for proper young ladies and gentlemen.

Harry didn't know who knocked him onto the ground, but he definitely knew it wasn't a boy. Parts of Harry were stinging, and those parts not stinging were feeling something fairly soft. And bumpy.

As his thoughts came back to rational thinking, he could detect the two things were familiar somehow, and kind of bouncy.

_Uh oh... _

Harry removed his hands from the girl's upper body.

"Sorry about that," they both said at the same time.

"Why are you sorry?" replied the girl before Harry could open mouth and insert foot any further.

"Er… um," Harry started, then just pointed to her body.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, trying to get to her feet and dislodge the human pretzel they'd become.

Part of Harry was mortified that he'd caught her… there. But another part of him wasn't sure if he wanted her to move, or to fall over some more so he could catch her a few dozen times. He just hoped that no one was watching them at this moment. It was a little embarrassing for both of them. They were, after all, in a compromising position.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts when the girl had pulled away for him to get a good look at her. Instantly, he froze.

It was Tonks.

She was blushing a furious red and looked like she wanted to hide in a hole and never come back. But it was still Nymphadora Tonks.

Harry immediately took a deep breath, and spoke like nothing happened. Which, when he thought about it, nothing did. Other than he touched her body. Hoo-boy. "It's okay, but can you get off?" Harry asked.

She murmured another apology and tried to get up while not rubbing him too much; however, she only succeeded in falling on her behind causing her robes to flutter up and down.

This gave Harry an awkward view of almost everything she wore under her robes from the waist on down. And of course, the first thing that came to his mind was: _Isn't Tonks kind of old to be wearing underwear with pink heart shapes on it?_

Harry scooted back, keeping his gaze down to the wooden flooring, all the while not giving a clue that he'd seen anything (especially lots of pink hearts), but his face betrayed him with a slight blush.

When he finally stood up, extending a hand down to Tonks, she took his hand while also giving him the most embarrassed and horrified look she could muster.

"Sorry about this." Tonks murmured again.

Harry coughed and murmured, "It's okay. It was my fault too."

"It wasn't," she interrupted, straightening her robes.

An awkward silence...

"Sorry," they both said at the same time.

They both chuckled at the verbal jinx.

"I'm Harry Potter by the way. Are you okay?"

"Tonks. Don't ask for my first name; just call me Tonks. I'm fine. Sorry about crashing into you. What about you? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

_Very fine, _Tonks noticed._ Stop that! He's a first year! You're too old for him!_

"Sorry, I'm a little clumsy and I took a wrong step and fell," she said quietly.

Harry waved off the apology. "It's okay. I was glad I managed to grab you in time, or you could've really gotten hurt. It's a long way to the main floor."

She nodded meekly.

"Well... I need to go send a letter... err bye," Harry said awkwardly.

Tonks blushed, and followed right behind him.

About 11 steps later, Tonks tripped again, this time going forward and accidentally grabbing Harry's robes to try to keep herself from falling over. She managed to stop herself but Harry's balance was offset and he teetered a few times before she pushed him stable again.

"You know," Harry began, "perhaps it would be best if we walked side by side the rest of the way. You know, in case there are any more accidents."

"I'm really sorry," she started.

"Tonks, really, it's okay. No harm, no foul."

"I feel like I should owe you a witch's debt of some sort for saving my life."

"Nah, I'm cool. Comes with the job of being an apprentice. But if you really want to make it up to me… does your mother still make Dark Chocolate Brownies?"

"How'd you know…?"

"I may jump around with where I stay in the houses, but I do notice a few things, Tonks, and when I smelled the brownies you brought into the common room about a month ago, I started to drool."

"Yes, she still makes them."

"Get me a batch and we'll call it quits then. Deal?"

"You mean all I'm worth to you is a pan of brownies?" Tonks said with a little indignation.

"She puts nuts in then, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"They smelled really good, Tonks."

"And what are you going to ask for should I fall and you have to rescue me again?"

"I heard she makes some good fudge as well…" Harry said hopefully.

Tonks arched her head and took a good look at Harry. He couldn't help it any longer and began to smirk.

"You prat! You had me going there for a moment."

"Maybe. But you still owe me a pan of brownies. I'll be back in Gryffindor before the end of the year, so anytime after then is fine, Nymphadora."

"How'd you know my first name?"

"Like I said, I observe quite a bit. Also, it doesn't help your case any that Sirius Black is my neighbor and he's told me a few stories about you this past summer."

"Nothing good I hope," she shot back with a grin.

"Of course not. Just little bits about you growing up and how you really like to wear panties with pink hearts on them!"

"You saw!"

"Of course! But if you want to pound me, you've got to catch me!" he chortled, running the rest of the way up the stairs.

She took off in hot pursuit, intending to teach him some manners and not peek at a lady's knickers.

She eventually caught him and the two continued their conversation (after a brief punch on his shoulder for peeking) in order to get to know each other a little better. As Harry listened to her quick rundown of what life was like in Hogwarts as a 6th year, he was constantly reminded of her amusing nature. She liked to laugh and it showed in her eyes. That must have been what Mooney found so alluring in her when they began to date.

One thing was for certain, he had no intention of allowing her to end up on the slab at the coroners this time around.

**(((o)))**

**Thursday, December 12****th****, Hogwarts castle grounds**

The Saturday before term ended, Harry found himself walking back to the castle from a visit to Hagrid. He chuckled to himself thinking about Hagrid's obsession with all things draconic. If events played out, the man would soon be getting an egg and try to hatch the bloody thing in his wooden shack, calling the small fire-spewing creature Norbert of all things. Actually, since Dragons have a very good and very long memory, that small bit of praise and kindness was never forgotten by the dragon and when Hogwarts was attacked in Harry's seventh year, Norbert would end up feeling the uncertainty of his Hagrid and come investigate. And when he found Hagrid dead near his hatch-ground, Norbert became very agitated and took out his frustration on the black robes flying in the sky, shooting beams of light from their sticks. All told, when Harry thought to check (which he hadn't wanted to do but found himself doing anyway weeks later), 22 death eaters had either been burned to death by dragonfire or were chewed on like Fang's dinner. At best, 9 death eaters had to be identified by only partial remains – when they were found later on partially digested in the dragon poop.

No, Harry knew he couldn't stop Hagrid getting his Norbert. A problem it would certainly be this year, but it was a necessity for later years. Especially if the dark wanker was successful in regenerating his body and reconstituting his wanker force of inbred goofballs.

As Harry approached the castle, he caught sight of Blaise Zabini leaving the greenhouse as she strode for the castle. It was cold out and he could understand her hurried gait as she moved to get to someplace warmer. Really, warming and heating charms should be on first year curriculum instead of the other mish-mash, Harry knew. He'd have to talk to Professor Flitwick about that.

Harry looked at Zabini's backside as she made her way to the castle. It was odd seeing Blaise as a girl here rather than there, Harry knew. If he didn't know he was in an alternate dimension before, he did now since it had a female Zabini. He'd seen her off and on in classes and in the Slytherin cellar. But he really hadn't spoken to her before now.

As Harry walked at a more sedate speed (he knew the warming charm after all), he saw that three boys broke from a concealed area against the wall and approached Blaise from behind. Harry wasn't sure but suspected they were either third or fourth years. From Slytherin. Typical.

The largest of the three boys jumped from behind her to walk next to her, then in front of her where he turned around and walked backwards while grinning at her.

"I don't know why you Zabinis prefer to stay neutral these day, Blaise. I mean it absolutely disgusts me knowing that some of our own Pure-blood families would rather remain neutral than rally under our dark lord to exterminate those nasty little Mudbloods. Wouldn't you agree?"

Blaise looked towards the boy in front of her and then to either side and noticed she was surrounded. To make matters worse, the boy in front of her decided to stop, forcing her to do the same lest she run into him. She kept her mouth shut.

Harry hugged the shadows and let some of his power move him closer to the scene without being seen. The first thing that Harry noticed when he shadowed closer was that the boy, Seth Eldrad, a fourth year wearing Slytherin colours, held two wands. And since Blaise didn't have one out, Harry knew that it must have belonged to her.

Blaise screwed up her courage. She was not going to give in and cry in front of that jerk Seth Eldrad, Alberto Cronio, or Brian Doinkie if she could help it. They were jerks and probably just trying to get a rise out of her. "You're a fool, Eldrad. You're frightened of mudbloods and you should be. Because in case you haven't noticed, the purebloods are dying out unless you have red hair and are named a Weasley."

"What are you on about, Zabini?" Cronio snapped.

"Think about it, morons. How many only children go to this school? Of that, how many are pure-bloods vs. from muggles? Can't do the math? It's no wonder I hear you got thrown out of aritmancy."

"You've got a mouth on you, Zabini."

"Perhaps. But in 200 years, perhaps less, your children or grandchildren won't have mouths at all. They'll either be part of a magical population so minor to be bereft of any political power, or they'll be mutants with no mouths, or chins, or brains. Of course, in your family that won't hinder them at all."

"What's a mutant?" Doinkie asked Eldrad.

"Who cares," Eldrad replied to his goon. "She's just making up tales."

"Sure I am," Blaise agreed easily. "Just ask any of the Darlington, Zvoy, Burles, Yves, Amesworth, Toledo, or Quinas families. Oh wait, you can't. They bred out. At the end, they produced only squibs, so no one magical to carry on their names. Too bad. I guess the mudbloods will have to carry it on for them won't they? Kind of like they'll have to do with your family, right?"

"Shut up! You know, for a firstie, you're a bigger snot than most."

"And to think, I was just getting started," Blaise retorted, jumping for her wand.

Eldrad raised it out of her reach. "I'm an Eldrad. And no little snot is going to disrespect me or my family, you got that?"

"Disrespect implies that you had respect to begin with. Jerk."

Eldrad's eyes narrowed and he quickly raised his wand, incanted sharply and threw a cutting hex at her left cheek. She dodged most of it, but it still grazed and cut the skin.

"You know, you're quite pretty, Zabini. How about we have some fun?"

"How about you rot in Hell?" Blaise shot back.

Cronio and Doinkie grabbed her arms as Eldrad came towards her. Her icy composure just about used up, she began to cry when Eldrad grabbed her chin and looked into her eyes, grinning a lopsided smile. Harry recognized that look as the one Lucius Malfoy had when he was caught raping a Muggle in one of his raids.

As much as Harry wanted to allow Blaise to work this out on her own and create her own reputation as one to be avoided, it was time to intervene.

"_Accio wands_!" Harry seemed to suddenly appear a few meters away from the group. All four wands flew to his open left hand. His right still held the shadow wand and if he could have seen himself, he would have noticed that his eyes had gone black again.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry hissed in a cold voice that had the intention of knocking the three boys off their feet and sending them a few meters away to land roughly on the cold ground.

Harry rushed to a now-sobbing Blaise and comforted her as best he could, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Sshhhh. It's okay. They're not going to hurt you. Here, which wand is yours? Go on, take it. I need to talk to these tossers about their attitude."

"Thanks, Harry," she managed through tears.

This was a far cry from the persona that Blaise normally showed. Only a first year, and she was already known as a future Ice Queen. She acted cold and didn't talk much to her classmates. Some students think she was stuck up, others thought she had a personality disorder. However Harry understood why. It was how her family raised her that she ended up like that.

_To be ruthless and cold hearted; show no mercy to those who oppose you... _

A cold mantra, but one that served them well over the centuries. The head of the house had turned their house into a workhorse on the political scene. Being neutral had its advantages, but as Blaise just found out, it also had its disadvantages. With no friends to speak of (at least in Slytherin), she had been caught alone by some older bullies.

Harry walked to the threesome now starting to get off the crusty grass. Harry tossed their wands to the ground and walked over to the leader of the gang.

"Leave her alone, Eldrad. From this moment forward, she's one of my close friends. Harm her... and I'll make sure no one will ever find your body."

"Big talk from a little apprentice," Eldrad sneered, grabbing his wand. His two goons followed suit and soon enough all three were surrounding Harry.

This time, however, the first year wasn't the least bit intimidated. "Keep in mind what I said, Eldrad."

"You lost the element of surprise, Potter," Eldrad said, nodding to his goons to grab his arms. "Now I'm going to show you why you shouldn't have let your guard down."

"_Diffindo_," Harry said casually, not even bothering to point his wand.

A large cut appeared on Eldrad's cheek. His hands went to the sticky sensation on his face and after seeing the red on them, his eyes bulged.

"Who said my guard was down? Now why don't you take you and your girlfriends back to your room and get someone to stop the bleeding."

"Firshn…" Eldrad started but Harry stopped him with a quick punch to his mouth and nose. Bone on bone contact always hurt, but Harry had had worse in his life. Try meeting Voldemort with low occlumency shields. He'd heal his hand later if need be.

Eldrad went back down to the ground. The two goons who had been trying to restrain Harry's arms were let go of the silent body bind he'd placed them in. "Get your boyfriend some help to stop the bleeding. If any of you report what happened here, I'll make sure to do a lot worse. Got it?"

The two goons (confirming to Harry that Goyle and Crabbe weren't the only mindless Slytherins in the house) nodded, grabbed their friend and raced for the castle.

Harry was furious that anyone had tried to pull something like this. It didn't matter if Harry hadn't known Blaise or not, the fact that someone in his school had been about to sexually assault someone made his blood boil. He needed to find Filch and see what kinds of evil tortures he could come up with for the three boys. Simply cleaning the bathrooms wasn't going to do it. There needed to be something else. Especially when he caught them doing this again and knowing that type of mentality, it wasn't a matter of _if_ they'd do it, it was simply a matter of _when_.

Wards. He needed some wards. He needed to check that subject out next.

Once out of his mental checklist of books to search, Harry looked around and noticed Blaise was still taking in deep breaths while leaning against the wall. He went to help the blond Slytherin.

"Are you okay? Really okay?" Harry asked softly.

She began to sniffle and sobbed as a response. She no longer cared keeping her cold Zabini expression; she was too teary to hold it in.

Harry immediately comforted her (again) and whispered that everything was going to be okay.

"Thanks again, Harry," she whispered softly.

Harry nodded and held her close. "What are friends for?"

And as Harry quickly came to find out, Blaise did become his friend. She joined him at breakfast with his other friends who were quick to accept the quiet Slytherin. She even joined his library study session on occasion, and one time her composure crashed and burned when Harry told a particularly dirty joke and she laughed.

**(((o)))**

A/N: And that's the chapter this time, campers. No evil cliffie this time around. I have the next chapter well underway and even have my notes going for the chapter after that which is going to explain some things to Harry and put his role in this universe into perspective. I'm not going to say any more than that.

On a side note, I did interview for a new job but didn't get it since I didn't have the required skill of writing about medical equipment such as respirators and machines that go ping (I'll give a special mention in the next story for the first person who can tell me where that "ping" reference came from). It won't take as long for the next chapter but in the meantime, please review. They keep me going.

Steve2

New Lives 06Page 50 of 50


	8. Chapter 7: Screams in the Night

**Disclaimer****: Still not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling. Other than the ones I create, but can't use anywhere else since they are in the Potterverse. **

Well, here I am writing another intro on a chapter that I thought would be in year 02 by now. Or at least the summer. But I'm not even to Christmas yet. But I'm getting close. On the plus side, here's another long chapter. I won't guarantee as long in the future since I want to start seeing some progress made in the timeline, but I hope you still get a few chuckles along the way.

As for the "ping" reference at the end of the last chapter, several reviewers were spot on when they said it was from the Monty Python movie "The Meaning of Life" in which the staff at a hospital is more interested in the machine that goes "ping" vs. helping patients. Special thanks go to the following reviewers who managed to spot this reference: IDNN (who was the first reviewer of the last chapter, and had the correct answer to boot!), Schwertlilie81, Zyrieen, 6firefox9, ChaosReigns, J. Palmgren (thanks for the link by the way), and Krum2000. As for loneravenwolf: your ping machine is an actual machine that is used in reality, but I was referring to something more comedic (sorry about the confusion).

**Chapter 7: Screams in the Night – Fall Term Year 01**

The week leading up to the students leaving for the Christmas break was a cold week to say the very least. Scotland, even being warmed by the Atlantic, was still cold and it snowed here and there. Not so much one day, but plenty a day or two later. And stone castles weren't conducive to keeping heat in as much as they were to absorbing the cold from outside. This meant that students bundled up everywhere they went. The castle was a nice place to visit, Harry knew, but he certainly didn't want to live there. Not anymore. Not since he got his own family back. Er… however it is he came here that is.

Monday morning of the final week of classes started off like it normally did. He woke, got cleaned up, waited for his friends and they all made their way to the Hufflepuff table. Hermione and a few of his other girl friends from other houses joined them when they showed up. Edward had made friends with other boys his own age, but didn't mind sitting with all the girls around Harry in the morning since he was around the boys (and their penchant for fart jokes) in the afternoon and evening.

"At least this way I don't have to smell any funny business," Edward had told him when Harry asked if he was okay being around all the girls.

As breakfast progressed, morning mail kicked into gear and wings were soon pounding over everyone's heads as the avians dropped parcels and letters to the recipients. Harry noticed Lost make an appearance, drop its letter on Harry's breakfast (like it normally did – ruddy bird), and then go chase another owl out of the Great Hall (bloody randy bird).

After wiping flecks of food off the envelope, the first thing Harry noticed as that his name was not in his mother's handwriting. It was in his dad's. He hoped nothing was wrong: his father hadn't written him a letter all term – he'd added bits to his mother's letters, but they were all started and completed by his mother.

_I wonder what he wants me to bring home from the kitchens now?_ Harry thought.

He opened the letter.

_Dear son,_

_I'm sure this letter is coming as a shock to you. Here it is the end of your first term and your father is finally writing, right? Well, all I can say is that I'm following tradition. Your grandfather did the same to me and his father to him as well. It's not as if writing letters seemed unmanly, but more to the point, what was left for us men to cover that our wives hadn't already put to paper over the past few months. Not that it's an excuse, but it is tradition to tell our children how proud we are of them for doing well in school and that we'll see them soon. And I thought to do it in a letter vs. a howler since your mother beat me to that option. After all, no one likes a copycat._

_And let me tell you, I am very proud that my son is an apprentice. I know, I know, your mother already gushed on and on in previous letters about how proud we are. But I wanted you to know that I am very proud of this fact. There hasn't been an apprentice in the Potter family for a couple generations, and that was for a financial apprenticeship with the goblins back in the late 1700's. And here it is you've managed to become a teaching apprentice – especially impressive considering it is at such a young age._

_And while that is impressive and all, that is not what I wanted to spend this letter gushing on and on about. Yes, your mother has already inflated your ego enough, but I wanted to let you know that as your father and sire, nay, as your fellow marauder, that I am still reliving the memories we got from Hagrid of your sound thrashing of Professor Snape during your bake off! I don't know how you did it, but it was definitely a marauder tactic to cause his biscuits to combust on command. Well done, son! Well done indeed. Seeing as you are not just a bookworm, your family and myself are going to welcome you back into the house when we see you instead of just putting you in the servant's quarters._

_I'm kidding, I'm kidding. We were actually refurbishing Paddy's doghouse for you before your bake off._

_I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Son, to be a marauder, you've got to develop a thicker skin than that._

_I have to admit, son, that I was a little concerned when you left last summer for school. You looked so lost, so bewildered. I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, where was this shy kid that I'd grown used to? How did this academic son show up that I didn't even know?_

_I wonder, _Harry thought.

_But after reading all the reviews from your teachers and Headmaster Dumbledore, I can only think that my son is finally coming into his own. I'll have you know that Dumbledore thinks the same. As does Professor McGonagall. She even mentioned your mother's congratulatory howler and how you were called a momma's boy the rest of the day. I don't think I've been on the receiving end of a howler like that. Mine have been more in your face, you better shape up or we're shipping you off to the French Foreign Legion variety. I mean, I was just having a little fun in my school days._

_Anyway, I hope you have had no further problems of trolls being found at Hogwarts. You haven't mentioned anything in your letters other than to say you weren't even near the thing when it got loose, and the one general alert notice that the staff sent out on November 1__st__ indicated a troll had somehow gotten into the school only to be neutralized by someone on the staff. Your DADA professor I believe._

Harry snorted. That's not the story that actually made its rounds in the halls the day after Halloween.

_I'm not sure your DADA professor is playing with a full wand, if you catch my drift, based on some of the comments he's sent us about your progress, but he must know something if he was able to subdue a troll. As is, I'm glad you weren't involved. Your mother was near hysterics as it was. She wanted to floo to the school and make sure her son was all right. Of course she wanted to do it the next morning right in front of the entire school, but Shelia managed to hide the floo powder until she calmed down._

_Your sisters say hi (your brother just grunts), and even Jasmine wanted me to send you her regards. Is there something going on between you two? You thinking of dating her? Caught your eye, did she? Even at that young age, we can all tell she's going to be a beauty. Everyone with some Veela in them has this happen. You want us to arrange a marriage contract with the Black's?_

_Kidding! I'm kidding! No marriage contracts until you are 13 at least._

_You are just too easy, I'm telling you! _

_So how are classes you're teaching? I expect to hear some interesting things when you get home. According to Dumbledore, your own grades exceed normal levels, but that's to be expected since you're an apprentice. He even said that you might want to take the Wizarding MIQ test to see where you should be placed. You know, if you were a prankster, you could take that test and possibly answer every question in Farsi. Let them stew over the answers for a bit I always say._

_Until they cast a translation spell and then you're stuck with whatever they give you, _Harry thought.

_Until they cast a translation spell and then you're stuck with whatever they give you that is. Which is why you deliberately throw every answer and then they consider you a moron, but since you know how to translate languages, they think they might be in the presence of the next department head for wizarding relations, so they shower you with job offers in case you manage to graduate. I tell you, you just have to love pureblood politics._

_A conversation your mother and I had with Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall the other week came to the overall conclusion that you should be in a higher grade. They thought you should be a 4__th__ year at the very least. They did say that Lily's influence on you was a good thing which appeased her greatly. We even went out for dinner that night!_

_Now, I have to offer my apologies to you, son. Severus Snape is a bitter man for some things that happened when we were kids together going to Hogwarts. He was in Slytherin and I was a Gryffindor. Even then the house rivalries were strong and it didn't help that his best friend was sorted into Gryffindor with me. Or that I wanted to go out with her when we were younger. He saw me as a potential threat and tried to embarrass me as often as he could. I in turn did as many equally awful things to him. Yes, that's right. I was a prat when I was younger._

_Years later I tried to apologize to the man, but he wasn't having anything to do with me by then. I've tried apologizing several more times over the years but they went over like a wet kneazle in a roomful of rocking chairs. So now he takes out his anger at me by antagonizing my son. I'm sorry for that, Harry._

_On another note, your mother and I are going to want to talk to you about your temper and what you did to Mr. Stamro some time ago. We both think that a letter is not the proper place to discuss this with you. She's going to scold you about picking fights, but I want to let you know that while I agree with your mother in principle, there are just some people that need a good smack down to get a point across. Most aren't like that, but there are those select few that can't see common sense if it hit them across the head. Which is where a good swift punch comes in handy. On a side note, Stamro Sr. hasn't bothered to come to my office or lodge any of his usual complaints since you took his boy down a peg. Not that he bothered me much before, but working for the corps means you can't really go out of your way to alienate anyone in the ministry, even if it's a minor flunky in the Wizard Ministry International Herbology & Gardening Relations department._

_Remus is looking forward to seeing you again and hopes you are studying well. He said he's going to test you when you get home. I'll leave you to decide if I'm kidding or not. Your uncle Sirius and aunt Amy say they are both proud of you as well. Don't be surprised if she brings up the topic of a marriage contract while you're home over the holidays. _

_One last note: you play rough in Quidditch, kid. To that end, we're coming to your next match. Tell us which team you'll be playing for and Sirius and I will see if we can't trade a shift to see it._

_Just do me a favor and don't play for Slytherin. I don't think my delicate constitution can take you playing for the silver and green._

_Take care and see you soon._

_Love,_

_Dad_

Harry was surprised. His father apologizing? He didn't think his father would have apologized to Snape… ever; however he did. Several times in fact. Harry's respect for his father grew. But it kind of hurt him knowing that Snape didn't accept it.

_I guess scars run to deep._

"Harry? Harry," Hermione said, shaking his shoulder gently.

Harry looked up to his bushy-haired friend. "Yeah, Hermione?"

"You know what we discussed the other week, after you did you-know-what to you-know-who?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Ah, that. Brainstorm time?"

She nodded and Harry noticed a Gryffindor leaning a little closer to their table than natural. Neville had gotten one of his snitches, Ron as usual, to keep an eye on Harry since he'd refused his magnanimous offer of his hand in friendship. Really, who came up with this idea of his?

Anyway, Harry used Hermione's body to hide the fact that he pulled his wand out and flicked it once, silently casting a spell to translate what he and Hermione talked about into something else.

Hermione noticed the spell and after Harry told her about it, she pulled a yawn took a quick glance over her shoulder where she saw Ron writing something down. In the instant she saw this, she could only make out one word: meat.

"We're good to talk now, Hermione. You come up with an idea yet?"

"I think so. It's a classic from what I've read. It should work."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense. What is it?"

"After they go to sleep tonight, I sneak back up to their dorm. Open their door slightly. And put a balloon filled with water over the door so that when they wake up in the morning, the balloon falls on their heads and gets them wet."

Harry could see that Hermione was proud of herself.

"It… ah, needs a little refinement, Hermione. But a fine effort nonetheless."

**(((o)))**

**Hogwarts Library, Friday, December 20th**

"Harry," Hermione said a little out of breath, rushing to sit in the chair next to him. "I've got it. I've finally figured out what to do."

"You still need to learn the intent behind the exercises to occlude your mind, Hermione," Harry said absently.

"Yes, yes, so you've told me, even though it's taken me longer than the couple weeks I thought it would; but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

As Hermione was acting very un-Hermione like, Harry's interest was piqued and he gave his full attention to his friend.

From a nearby table, Ron tried to listen in like he had on every other conversation that pest Potter had had with other students over the past hour and a half. Really, if Neville hadn't asked him to mind Potter and see what he was up to, he had a good inclination to just leave. After all, he'd finished his homework during class. Well, all that he was going to do on it. Eh, it was good enough – he'd pass at least. But what was that Potter doing now with that know-it-all Granger? Probably something to get Neville in trouble I bet. Won't he be happy that Ron was on the job when I tell him everything they say? Ron was very happy with himself. He just hoped it wasn't another conversation they were going to have about beef jerky.

Hermione being Hermione, however, did notice that a certain bothersome red-head was entirely too close for comfort at the next table, especially as he seemed to be moving in a little closer to hear what she was going to say to Harry. She nodded her head towards his direction and Harry looked over his shoulder to see the ever-closer Weasley.

With a shake of his head and a silent spell a moment later, Harry said, "We're safe. I cast the translation spell so everything we say here will sound like we're talking about beef jerky. So what's up?"

"Just how did you cast that spell, Harry? That's the third time you've done it and I still haven't seen you do any wand movements."

"Oh, I just used a soundless incantation. They actually teach you how to do that in 6th year here, Hermione."

"What _don't_ you know?" she said more out of annoyance than actually getting a reply.

"Oh, lots of things. Cooking spells, several types of wardings, healing, history…"

"Yes, yes, I get the point. But you're so good at the things you do know," she interrupted.

"As are you," Harry pointed out. "So, what's up?"

"I've just come up with the perfect prank to use on Neville. And best of all, it might get him into trouble."

"Do tell," Harry grinned, leaning in closer.

Harry likes spicy beef jerky? Ron thought. Where in Merlin's name are they getting all this information about jerky? The house-elves. That's got to be it. Wait till Neville finds out they're using the elves to do jerky runs. Neville might be able to get him some… er, maybe he can use that knowledge to get Potter kicked out of school.

"Well," Hermione continued, oblivious that Ron had started to take notes on the different types of jerky that were currently available in a shop near Inverness. "I start out casting a spell on Neville's door. When he opens it, it triggers a secondary spell which pulls a string that opens Gryffindor common room entrance. This in turn has the Fat Lady screaming about unannounced visitors. That in turn kicks off an alarm spell I have in place to alert Filch that someone is leaving the Gryffindor common room after dark. He leaves his office in search of the student. This triggers another spell and moments later he sees a book falling from a shelf or from the top of a suit of armor – I haven't figured that part out yet. Obviously, he doesn't find anyone. But he does find one of Neville's books as his name on the inside cover. Figuring he must be up to no good, Filch storms to the Gryffindor common room and yells at Neville. This in turn alerts Professor McGonagall that someone has been up and about when they shouldn't have been and she comes to see who Filch has cornered. She sees that it is Neville and assigns him a detention. Well? How about it?"

Harry thought about it for a moment and said, "Well, a couple things. First, if you left the book for Filch to find, why bother with the rest of the magic? He could find it in the middle of the night on his rounds and still come looking for Neville. Second, who's to say Neville would open the door and release the rest of the spells? For all you know, it could be Ron or Dean, or even me when I stay there."

Hermione's enthusiasm waned. "You know, this is harder than it looks. I don't know how Fred and George do as much as they are accused of."

"They have help of course. And you know I'm more than willing to help you plan something out if you'd like."

Hermione gave him a smile. "Thanks, Harry, but I want to do this myself. If only to prove that I can do it."

"Okay. Want to mess with Ron some more? Ready to talk about jerky?" Hermione nodded yes and grinned. "I'm going to drop the translation field in three, two, one… And that's why I like the spicy jerky, Hermione. You can't beat it for overall taste and chewiness. I mean shoe leather is all right, but jerky hits the spot."

"You know, Harry," she said, an idea quickly forming. "Have you tried any of the camel-flavored jerky? I've heard a lot of good things about it. Of course it was in Arabic, but it was still good."

"I didn't know you spoke Arabic," he winked at her to show he was happy with her new spin on this delivery.

"Oh sure. It's not hard to learn a foreign language. All you have to do is find something you love about the culture or language and then cast the poopalucious translation spell and there you are. Instant understanding. And finding some camel jerky is what allowed me to learn Arabic in one afternoon."

"That sounds neat, Hermione," Harry winked again and Hermione winked back. "Can you teach me the spell so I can do it at a later time?"

"Sure. I'll even write it down and leave a copy of it for you on the bulletin board if I don't see you later tonight."

"Thanks, Hermione. Well, we'd better get back to studying. End of term tests are coming up."

Minutes later after the two began to read and revise notes, Ron scurried away, content that he had a sure-fire way to learn a foreign language in a short amount of time – two things that appealed to him: studying without having to study. Wait till Neville found out about this!

"He's gone," Harry informed Hermione who raised her head, still grinning. "Poopalucious? I don't think I've heard of that spell."

"It's a kind of… cleaning spell," she said.

"Uh-huh. What kind of cleaning spell?"

"One designed for wizards living in the city who need to walk their pets and then clean up after them after they've done their duty."

"Uh-huh."

"Oh, all right. A wizard points his wand at the poop, says the incantation and it flies to bag he's holding. It's a quick spell requiring next to no wand movement. The trick is to get it to the bag."

"And let's say for arguments sake that there aren't any dogs or cats here. What do you think will happen?"

"Doesn't Hagrid keep all sorts of animals nearby? I'm sure something might happen with one them."

"You do realize you just pulled your first prank, don't you?" Harry grinned, closing his books and gathering them all into his bag.

"No, I just talked about a spell that came to mind. I was reading up on it the other day because my dad is considering getting a dog and I'll have you know that I'm not about to lean down and grab a steaming mound of dog poo in my hands if I can help it."

Harry chuckled. "Your first prank. Think about it. Oh, and don't forget to put the poopalucious spell on the board. But do me a favor and omit the bit about the bag."

"But won't that mean the caster will… oh, I get it. You're evil, Mr. Potter."

"Why thank you, Miss Granger. But I only embellished what you started."

**(((o)))**

**Hogwarts Castle, Saturday, December 21st**

"Professor Bark?"

The professor looked up from his desk and noticed one of his students at the door, clearly waiting for an invitation to enter. "Enter, Mr. Potter. What can I do for you today? Shouldn't you be getting ready to depart with the rest of the students for your holiday break?"

"I couldn't leave until I handed in my assignment, professor," Harry offered, sitting in the chair in front of the desk.

"I wasn't aware we had any outstanding assignment, Mr. Potter."

"It's the end of year assignment you gave out. The one to write a story from a muggle perspective."

"Ah. That one. Are you sure you want to hand it in now, Mr. Potter? You do have another six months to work on it. I realize you're an apprentice, but surely you want to take your time to provide an appropriate story."

"Actually, I'm good. An idea came to me the other night and I wrote it out. I think you'll like it. Worst case scenario, you don't like it and I have to do another one." Harry then handed over a very large scroll to the man.

"My. That's about… 25 feet of parchment if I had to guess. You've certainly been busy, Mr. Potter."

"It helps when there isn't a homicidal wizard out to kill me," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, I just said that I've felt motivated this year more so than in other years."

"Odd," Professor Bark said looking at the beginning of the story. "It appears the text is typed rather than hand written…"

"I know what you're going to say, professor, but I did not copy this out of a book. I found a charm which acted in accordance to a dictation standard spell I knew. The result is a printed scroll rather than a hand-written mess like I normally turn in. I figured it would be better for my grade to not force my teacher into casting a translation spell to decipher my handwriting."

"An interesting idea, Mr. Potter, and quite right. I have knocked off a grade for bad penmanship in the past. Since you are the first student to turn in this assignment, I think I shall return the favor and read this tonight and give you your grade when you return from holiday. A happy Christmas to you, Mr. Potter."

"To you too, sir."

**(((o)))**

**London Express, Saturday, December 21st**

Harry sat in a compartment with Susan, Padma, Edward, Pam, Hermione and Blaise. The train ride back to London had been going on for some time and it was absolutely killing Harry that he hadn't shadow traveled back to the station to meet up with his parents and siblings. Of course that would have started more questions than he wanted to answer, so he sat on the long train ride back to England. It wasn't that he was bored more than he was… well, okay, he was bored. He had friends and all, but they had insisted on doing a little revising and studying for next term along the way home. And it was all in subjects that Harry knew very well. And since there wasn't any way he was going to time travel while on a moving train, he stayed uptime.

Harry recognized his antsy feelings for what they were about half way through the ride. His power reserves were straining the suppressors again. He wasn't getting antsy about the long ride. He was getting antsy because he wanted to magic something… anything! The more complex the better. The stronger the better.

He looked out the window and noticed the sleet starting to hit the train. They were moving into a storm system as they traveled southward. Perfect.

Excusing himself, Harry went to the back of the train car and opened the door, stepping outside. Before opening the next door, Harry released a magical pulse he'd been building for a few minutes. He aimed it below the train so no one would see it. It wasn't much of a spell, and it was one the students would learn in years to come if they didn't already know it now (and he didn't put it past Hermione to study ahead). It was a modified protego charm that instead of shielding a person, now shielded the entire train itself from any sleet. Fortunately, the shield allowed air through it so the pollution the steam engine spit out wasn't contained by the spell, causing the students (and adults for that matter) to gag at the stench.

As they were only a few hours out of London, Harry threw a rider on his spell to cause it to diminish after 90 minutes so that the train would get some weather on it by the time they pulled into the station. Spell work done, he went back into his compartment and found he wasn't so bored after all. Not when he had some good friends to hang around.

That lasted all of about 10 minutes before the doors opened and everyone's favorite jerk and his goons stood in the hallway, glaring at the compartment's occupants.

"Hey, Potter," Neville said entering.

Longbottom had everyone's attention, just the way he liked it.

Harry sighed a long suffering sigh. "Yes, Longbottom? Oh, wait. Let me guess. You want to give me one last chance to hang out with you and your band of sycophants."

"Psycho-what?" Longbottom was confused.

"Close enough," Hermione agreed.

"Whatever. Yes, I wanted to give you another chance to hang out with the cool kids at Hogwarts instead of a bunch of loser and nerds."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hmmm, let's break this down, shall we? I earn points for my house. You lose points for your house. I have friends who want to be around me for nothing more than friendship. You have people around you who want some sort of associated fame along with whatever else you have to offer. I like my friends. How about you?"

"I like my friends!"

"Including Rodriquez?"

"Sure. Even him."

"His name is Ron," Harry pointed out.

"Whatever. The point is, I'm popular. You're popular. Together we could be the two coolest kids in school."

"Gee, willy, Neville, why didn't you say so. I'll be as popular as you? And I bet I'll still be able to do your homework for you too, right?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"How about this for an answer: piss off!" Harry then pulled his wand and shot off a few sparks, indicating he meant business if Neville stayed around.

Longbottom, despite being a grade-A jerk, did understand a dismissal (he'd given enough of them to people in his short life) and with a stern glare at Harry, he backed out of the compartment and stormed off towards the front of the train.

Harry sighed again. Neville was becoming more antagonistic every day. He hated to think it, but something needed to be done about that boy. And soon.

"Harry, you're quite popular with the bullies," Padma said quietly.

Harry smiled and spoke in an equally quiet voice. "That's because I hate people who think they are all talk and no bark. Neville thinks because he's famous he can do anything. I'd hate to be the Boy-Who-Lived. It's too troublesome."

"You're not jealous of his title, are you Harry?" Susan inquired with a smirk.

_You have no idea what I went through when I was The Boy Who Lived_, Harry thought. "Yeah, right. Like I'd want that target on my back."

Hermione and Padma giggled as Harry struck an aristocratic pose with his nose in the air. After a few seconds, Harry's composure cracked and he smiled as well.

Hermione said, "Susan, Harry's not jealous of his title, he's just doesn't like Neville period. Don't you hate the way he acts when he keeps saying I'm The Boy Who Live this, I'm The Boy Who Live that. It's annoying. Not to mention the way he tries to push people around. Neville has tried to do that to Harry since the first day. You should have seen what he did to him in Gryffindor the first week. I don't think Longbottom has gotten over the idea that someone doesn't' like him or at least wants to be around him."

"You know, if Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived, it wouldn't be so bad. Harry for some reason fits perfectly for what everyone thinks that person should be. He's everything you would think of the guy. Smart, confident, kind, cool, handsome, popular, kind of like a prince," Padma said while reading a book she pulled out.

"Padma, you trying to ask me for a date like Hermione?" Harry said in a Neville-like voice and pose again. Padma grinned a little bit and pinched his cheeks causing him to wince in pain.

"Ask me that again when we're older and you just may get a different answer, Mr. Potter."

**-0-**

A half hour after Longbottom's entrance, the doors opened again. It was time for another ruffian and his goons. Only, this time the ruffian in question wasn't quite so obtuse in his dealings with people.

"Mr. Potter," Malfoy greeted, scanning the room. "I see this is where you're keeping yourself, Blaise."

Blaise looked at him and said nothing, her gaze conveying all that he needed to know. She had aligned herself to someone powerful enough to provide some protection, even in Slytherin. Looks like the rumors about Eldrad might be true after all.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry greeted back, waiting for him to say anything else. As usual, the two flanking goons grunted in some weird language only they understood. Harry restrained from picking up a Chocolate Frog and waving it back and forth in front of them to see if their eyes followed it like a pendulum.

Harry could tell that he had something on his mind but was having trouble formulating the question, so decided to help out. "Pleasant weather don't you say?" Harry asked.

Malfoy was about to sneer but he stopped himself. "Yes, pleasant weather," Malfoy replied in a clear voice.

There was another moment of awkward silence. Padma and Hermione were both looking above their books watching both Harry and Malfoy. They knew of Malfoy all right. He was a right pain when he wanted to be.

Blaise continued to watch Draco, Vincent, and Gregory with a shrewd glance and tight, pensive lips. _What did they want?_

Harry was patient; he was going to let Malfoy talk.

"Do you need something, Malfoy?" Susan finally asked. Pureblooded or not, if you weren't kowtowing to the Slytherin, he really didn't want anything to do with you. And even if you were, he treated people poorly. Or so she'd heard.

Malfoy ignored her and looked at Harry and spoke. "Why aren't you in Slytherin?" Malfoy asked getting to the point.

Harry looked up at him surprise, but recovered it just as quickly. Of all the things Malfoy could do, he asked Harry a simple question.

"I do spend time in Slytherin," Harry pointed out.

"No, you're an apprentice. That means all houses. But why aren't you in Slytherin only? Why do you spend the rest of your time with the other houses?"

"Why do you ask?" Harry asked.

"Every time we see the Bloody Baron, he goes on an on about how we should respect you and at the same time by wary of the shadow that walks – whatever that means. Why? What have you done that's impressed the Bloody Baron of all people?" Malfoy said.

That was a surprise. The Baron telling everyone in Slytherin that he was a true Slytherin and to show him respect? Thinking quick, Harry replied, "Not really sure, Draco. Keep in mind, Slytherin isn't the house of the bigoted brainless morons. It's the house of the ambitious."

Malfoy smirked. "And you're ambitious?"

Harry smirked back, "More than you know."

"Then I reiterate: why aren't you in Slytherin full time?"

"Maybe because I'm not prejudiced like many other people; or maybe because I treat all people with respect. That is, unless you're Neville Longbottom, then we've got problems."

Draco knew what he was talking about. Malfoy and Longbottom would never be friends.

"Very well, till we meet again," Malfoy said closing the door.

Seconds after the door was closed, Pam rounded on Harry. "Harry… why does the Bloody Baron act that way?"

Hermione and Padma were looking just as curious.

Harry shrugged. He was going to have a talk with the Bloody Baron when he returned to Hogwarts. Harry was just as curious. More on how he knew of his heritage vs. why he hadn't said anything.

Or had he said anything to the professors? He really needed to talk to that Bloody ghost.

"Truthfully... I don't know." Harry said not sure. What was the Bloody Baron up to?

**-0-**

Nearing the end of the journey, Harry escorted Blaise to the loo so she didn't run into any creeps in the halls. She had been a little nervous asking him to do that, but was relieved when he instantly said he would go and wait in the hall until she was done.

While they were gone, Hermione turned to Padma and said, "I know Harry's an apprentice and all, but don't you think he's a little bit mature for his age half the time?"

"You noticed that too?"

"I think we all did," Susan offered, pulling them all into the discussion.

Padma continued, "I talked to Terry about him last week and we've both noticed some of the older students talking about him. I mean most Ravenclaws are smart in theories, but not too good in practicals. But Harry exceeds in both."

"Not to mention he's a cute boy," Pam said.

"I am right here as well," Edward put in.

"Sorry, Edward, but I call them as I see it," Pam grinned at her housemate.

"Sometimes I wish I had his brains," Hermione said, surprising the rest as they considered her very intelligent. "He knows so much. A couple weeks back I went up to his room to wake him from a nap and found a book he'd been reading on his nightstand. It was about magical theories on enchanting. Something you only read after you've graduated school and go onto…"

"…an apprenticeship?" Padma concluded for her friend.

"Well… yes. But it's magical university level if you ask me," Hermione said. "Anyway I wonder if Harry would know anything about why a Cerberus is currently being housed on the 3rd floor?"

"What?!" Pam nearly shouted.

"Pam, calm down," Edward said. "Hermione, please explain."

"… um, Padma and I sort of got turned around about a month ago and we sort of ended up on the third floor. I heard this noise coming from behind a door and tried a few unlocking spells on the locks."

Padma picked up the story, "I wasn't sure what it was, but curiosity getting the better of me, I opened the door. Hermione and I looked in and we both saw a 3-headed dog waking up. That door was shut immediately I tell you."

"So when Padma and I got done with classes that afternoon, we went to the library and did some research. We found that a 3-headed dog is not the most practical guard dog, but can be domesticated through the use of soft names like Powder, Daisy, Fluffy, and Snuggles unlike the names they are usually saddled with like Killer, Maimer, Hey You, and Buster."

"So Hermione and I went to Hagrid next to get some more information on the dog. Its name is Fluffy by the way. Questioning Hagrid provided another clue why the dog was there. It has something to do with Nicholas Flamel. I wonder if Harry would know who that is as well."

Returning with Blaise, Harry overheard only a little of the conversation and said, "Know what?"

The kids explained about the Cerberus on the third floor and about their discovery about Nicholas Flamel. Harry was grateful that Hermione and Padma hadn't noticed the trapdoor under Fluffy and agreed to look into who Flamel was over Christmas. But inwardly he knew he needed to get them to drop the subject. There was no way he was going to allow any of his friends down that rabbit hole.

Not again if he could help it.

At long last, the train arrived at the station. As everyone got up and collected their things, Harry reached into his back and pulled out presents for his friends, unshrinking them as he pulled each one out. It was the same size and shape for everyone. Grinning, Harry admonished, "Okay, everyone, don't open until Christmas. I've charmed the paper to not allow opening until then."

"You've charmed the paper? That's an OWL-level skill," Hermione asked wide-eyed.

"I know. That's why I'm yanking your chains. I didn't charm the paper. I just said it to see who was paying attention."

"Oh, ha-ha, Harry," Susan grinned and shook her head in mock annoyance.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said still looking at the package.

"Oh, don't thank me, Hermione, until you've seen it. It's not much. I made it at school using some things I just happened to find laying about."

Indeed, Harry had used his magic to create a few gifts for his friends out of things that just happened to be laying about. That was not a falsehood. And as is, he was pretty confident that Hermione would like what he made for her. And Padma, well, Harry knew she loved Astronomy. He wasn't so sure about the others, but they would probably be well-received by this crowd. It wasn't like they held the same anti-studying fixation that Ron had.

"Did that laying about include anything out of Longbottom's trunk that went missing a couple weeks back?" Edward said with a raised eye.

"I'm not saying. Just be content knowing he'll never recognize it again and he certainly won't need it again. He already had enough statues about him being the greatest son ever from his parents. What's six more missing?"

"Uh-huh," Padma grinned, putting the package with the rest of her things.

"Have a happy Christmas everyone," Harry said as they started to troop out of the compartment.

"You too, Harry," Hermione said, pleased that her first friend had gotten her something for Christmas. Hopefully the book she'd ordered for him would be in and she could get it to him before the holiday.

The students all got off the train and waved to one another as they broke up to meet their parents. Harry noticed Edward met a woman who he thought was his mother. They certainly seemed related. His father was not there.

Before Harry could think of his friend anymore, he was suddenly hugged by his sisters and mother.

Harry gasped.

"Mum! I need... to breathe!"

She gasped.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," his mother cooed.

Little Lily was yanking his sweater telling him to hold her.

Harry smiled and picked her up.

"Hey Lily, have you been a good girl for mommy and your brother and sisters?" Harry said looking in her eyes.

She giggled and replied equally serious, "Yeah!"

"That's my little girl," Harry said smiling at his younger sister.

They looked at each other for a few more seconds until Shelia cleared her throat.

Harry looked around at his assembled family there to greet him. He felt incredibly lucky to be spending Christmas with a real family for the first time in his life.

**(((o)))**

**December 27th, Hogwarts Castle, Teacher's Conference Room, afternoon**

"Thank you for coming," Headmaster Dumbledore said to the assembled teachers. "I'll try to keep this meeting brief so we can all get back to enjoying our holiday. Thank you for the Therestal-hair socks, Hagrid. I'll let you know how comfortable they are once I find them again. For some reason they up and disappeared on me. I'll have to talk to the house-elves about that. But I digress. Are there any concerns with regards to our students that needs to be shared at this time?"

Most of the staff looked at Severus for his usual complaints. The potions master kept his mouth shut, his lips firm and looked away from the rest of the staff. There was only one thing on his mind and they all know it: Potter. How had a first year… and so on he wanted to rant. But couldn't. Or wouldn't.

The meeting continued with teachers giving a quick evaluation of some of their promising students, and those that needed additional tutelage, along with those that simply needed more detentions to keep them out of any further trouble (Fred and George Weasley were prominently mentioned more than once they would have been pleased to know had they been there).

As the discussion went from teacher to teacher, Professor Bark waited until his turn to speak. "Bartholomew?" Albus directed. "How about you? Anything you want to add?"

"I know that everyone here who has apprentice Potter in their classroom with the exception of Severus find him a wonderful helper. I have to admit, he's surprised me as well. I never expected someone coming from a pureblood background like he does to be so knowledgeable at such a young age on muggle customs and vernacular. I've read several assignments from other students and have recognized Mr. Potter's handiwork in there."

"Is this going anywhere?" Severus Snape ground out through gritted teeth. They were fawning all over that… that brat again! It was all a ploy! _He's as arrogant as his father, if only I could just prove it._

"Well, I was reading his end-of-year term paper last night. I usually am lucky to get anywhere from three-to-six feet of parchment for this subject from my students, yet he wrote out 28 feet. Being an apprentice, I should have expected no less. But after reading it, I wanted to ask if any of the rest of you have noticed Mr. Potter's affinity to muggles or muggle terminology?"

"Well, he certainly has a hands-on approach to his work in the greenhouses," said Professor Sprout. "He's not afraid of getting his hands dirty like most pureblood students I've had over the past few decades. Why are you asking, Bartholomew?"

"Well, as good as he is in my class, I didn't expect much from his story: I mean, he's only 11 years old for Merlin's sake. So perhaps he knows a few things here and there about the muggle world, but could he write a consistent story using muggles as the focal point? But as soon as I started reading it, I was drawn in. Not only for the story and characters, which are strikingly familiar, but with all the little things hew threw in there when no one was looking. He may only be 11-years old, but he is an amazingly insightful young man well beyond his 11 years."

"Do you think he is getting outside help?" Albus asked with a serious tone. "His mother is after all muggle-born."

Professor Bark shook his head. "I thought of that and wrote her but she assures me she has not given him any help. He hasn't even asked for any which is why it is so remarkable. I had thought that I might be reading another rendition of Mad Marvin Muggle and his Hoover that Flew, which is a story that young Mr. Fosterings presented three years ago and sold to some younger students later on, but Mr. Potter's story had nothing to do with that one. I mean, it didn't even have any mention of muggles using various trapped mini-demons called micro-wavies to cook food and roast gremlins like I've seen over the years either. To me that says he is not getting his knowledge from the upper years. He's getting it from an outside source, possibly from the outside world in general."

"M-m-maybe he sh-sh-should b-b-be immersed in a t-t-tank of h-h-holy w-w-water to ensure he isn't a v-v-v-vampire?" suggested a nervous Quirrell.

"I'm sure Mr. Potter isn't a vampire," snorted Professor McGonagall.

Albus thought about Professor Bark's comments more as the meeting continued on. No, no one thought any more of Harry's antics in class than they did outside of class. He worked hard and had his friends. He didn't cause trouble; in fact he routinely put a stop to it. Unless that trouble was Neville Longbottom.

Still, something nagged at the back of Albus's head. Just how knowledgeable was Harry Potter about the muggle world? And more importantly, how did he become so knowledgeable?

Nearly 40 minutes later, as the meeting was coming to an end: "Bartholomew, do you mind if I review Mr. Potter's story? I'm curious about Mr. Potter's take on the muggle world. It sounds very interesting if you are that excited about it," Headmaster Dumbledore asked.

"Not at all, Albus. You might even enjoy it since you're in it."

"Indeed?"

"He lampooned a few teachers in there. It was all in fun, so no harm intended."

"I'm sure," Professor Snape groused.

**-0-**

Later that night, Albus Dumbledore, big cheese and what have you, entered his private quarters after ensuring the wards were still structurally sound for being invisible. It was late and he did not want another crisis on his hands – what, oh what had prompted him to allow the Weasley twins to remain behind when they could have gone with their parents to Romania? If he'd known the trouble those two would have gotten in this year, he'd have gladly paid for the international portkey himself just to get rid of those two rapscallions.

Still… they did have some redeeming qualities. If only those would show more often. Ah well, it was time to finally review Mr. Potter's Muggle Studies assignment.

Sitting on a comfy chair near the fire, Albus had a cup of tea brought up from the kitchens and began to read.

**(((o)))**

**Screams in the Night**

By Harry James Potter

The moonlight slapped the side of the barn with a silver glow, stumbling over the cracks and splits on the wooden walls. That probably wouldn't have happened if someone had applied moisturizer now and again. The only other light piercing the barn's hide was the glitter of stars shinning through the hole in the roof above.

The place was perfect, or so Mr. Lockhart had thought at the time. It was isolated, quiet and supposed to withstand the approaching beast. Of course, there wasn't any light in there which was probably for the best as I didn't want to see Mr. Lockhart cry. Like, not any _more_.

In the distance, a creature, howled its presence. "Hooooooowwwwlll!!" Closer, a second one replied in kind with two short grunts, acknowledging its whereabouts.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Oh, God, Lavender!" He almost cried, strengthening his hold on my arm. "It's still out there! Make it go away! Do something!"

The barn wasn't all that sturdy, so it was only a matter of time before it fell in on us. That would be bad. I had only just bought my dress this afternoon. I didn't want to get it dirty.

"Um, Mr. Lockhart? Could you let go of my arm? This isn't the right place for that kind of thing, you know?" I don't think he knew. But he let go of my arm and I could vaguely see his shape curl around a support column.

Why did this have to happen to us? How could it have happened?

There was a full moon out tonight, and from the light I caught glimpses of the creature. It was over six feet tall rippling with muscles under a furry body and walked with an awkward gait on two legs. It snarled constantly so it wasn't hard seeing dozens of flesh-ripping teeth complemented by two beady eyes.

I'd heard the legends of how ordinary people were turned into these flesh-eating creatures, but I never believed them. Where did this one come from? And didn't it know that eating red meat was so last year?

So then Mr. Lockhart said/blubbered, "Oh, my Sybil. Wherefore art thou, my Sybil? You could save me."

I just couldn't look at him anymore. He was too much a fashion violation.

The day had started like every other day for the past three years. I woke up from my parent's dog licking my face. Ugh. Dog breath. Then I got up and put him outside so I could go get ready for school. I then got ready for school. Then I went downstairs and had breakfast – toast, tea, my vitamins and other capsules, and my one vicky… no, viagr… no, let's see – what was that word… oh, yeah, vice. I grabbed a stick of gum. With sugar on it. Mmmmmm.

I then went to school. It was always the same. Go to class, sit in class, listen to classroom noise and think about what to do after school. Read Beauty iz Skin Deep or go to Harrod's? Ooohh, it made my head hurt sometimes to think about which to do.

Only today was different.

I didn't have to think about after school. Ms. McGonagall thought of it for everyone.

I was in science class with Padma, Parvati, Susan and a lot of other somebodies. Ms. Trelawney was saying something. It seemed kind of familiar but I wasn't sure why.

So then Ms. Trelawney said, "… and as you can see, it's the MALE version of sunlight that causes skin cancer. Just like it's always a MALE that causes problems to females…"

So then a somebody said, "Um… Ms. Trelawney? I don't think sunlight is categorized as male or female…"

So then Ms. Trelawney said, "That's typical MALE behavior there, Martin. But I'll overlook it for now since you've just volunteered to assist me in out next experiment."

Oh, right. It was a male somebody.

So then the male somebody named Martin said, "Um… I didn't volun…"

So then Ms. Trelawney said, "Quiet, you MALE and get up here. Now hold this wire. Girls, I want you to see what happens to the human nervous system when you touch a live wire. You! Male! Get back here! Hold that wire. It's not active. Yet. You see, girls, once I flip this switch…"

But then Ms. McGonagall came in the classroom and gave an announcement in an announcy kind of voice. She always did that. I didn't mind – at least it got the other voices in my head to keep quiet for a bit.

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Goooood morning, students! Goooood news! We have received permission from the superintendent to go to a star gazing outing tonight…"

So then Parvati asked, "Why tonight?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "What?"

So then Parvati said, "Why tonight? Why not during the day when we could easily go to the planetarium and miss out on other classes?" That was Parvati for you. She was always smart trying to get us out of class or additional homework.

So then Padma said, "Gee, Parvati, I wish I had thought of that. Maybe you blah blah blah." I kind of lost interest in what she said. It must not have been very important.

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Because we are NOT going to the planetarium, Miss Patil. Why look at fake stars and constellations when you could see the real thing at night?"

So then Parvati said, "Another budget crunch, eh?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Uh… er… ah, okay then. We will all meet here tonight at 8pm to go to Wild Albus' Telescopes Rentals and see real stars tonight! And better yet, you will be going with students who did this last year to help you make out the constellations."

Make out. That sounded a lot like make up. I was running a little low on base powder. I knew I needed to tell Susan so she could make a note of it for later.

So then Ms. Trelawney said, "I can't make it tonight."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "I'm sure it's not anything you can't reschedule…"

So then Ms. Trelawney said, "I'm meeting with my lawyer."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "And I'm sure Mr. Lockhart will be happy to take your place then."

So then Ms. Trelawney seemed to want to say something but didn't.

So then Susan asked, "Do we need permission slips?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Of course you do. But don't worry – I've got copies from the last trip we didn't take and have successfully changed the destination on it to match tonight's. Participation is mandatory. And make sure to bring some spending money as those telescope rentals don't come cheap. That is all. Resume learning."

And then she left. She was always leaving like that. Well, a few minutes later the voices resumed in my head. It was time to do my mental exercises. One plus one was two. One plus two was three. One plus three was four.

But then Padma said, "Lavender?! Are you going to Macy's later with us or not?"

Oh darn. I lost track. So I said, "Yeah." It was a good answer. Darn voices again. One plus one was two…

So then a voice said, "Aaaaaaiiiiieeeeeee!!"

So then Ms. Trelawney said, "Be quiet, you MALE!"

Then came lunch. It was at school. That was sooooo wrong.

Padma and Parvati and Susan were waiting in line. I got a diet soda out of the machine that accepted coins for cans or something like that. It was good soda. It hardly had any taste at all. Taste caused fat. I'm sure of it. I should know. I was fat once. I don't want to go through that again.

Lunch was the same. The voices usually got louder and I was getting better at ignoring them. Still, I took my vitamins and other dietary supplements with my soda.

I sat down and began eating my lunch. Susan, Padma and Parvati also sat down and we ate. It was nice. Then the voices started up. Something about winning a football game this weekend. It was weird. Why would anyone want to put a ball on their foot?

Then came classes in the afternoon and the voices finally stopped in Mr. Snape's class. Actually, I did hear one voice saying blah gun blah grenade blah combat or something but all I could do was watch Mr. Snape's fashion crisis and cringe. His tie was so not with his shoes. The only good contrast he gave was when his eye bulged out past his greasy hair. The red veins matched his socks so that was okay.

Later Padma, Parvati, Susan and myself all went to Macy's. It was okay. They had a new dress. I could see myself in one of them if I wasn't fat. I asked Parvati if I would look fat in one but she said no. She always said that. I'm not sure I can trust her judgment of my shape any longer. Padma would tell me.

Then came dinner which was better avoided as it involved my parents, their dog panting all over my dress and more supplements. Plus a salad. I skipped the dressing as it was too fattening.

My mom asked, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah?"

"Yes, mom. I took my pills."

So then my dad asked, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah?"

"Yes, dad. Zachary got his filet as you instructed."

So my dad said, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah, wah, wah, wah, wah."

"Yes, dad. His coat is getting shiny. You should win this time." Zachary was the dog. "I have to go to a school function tonight. Can I have some money?"

So my mom asked, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah?"

"I think it's for microscope rentals or something."

So my mom asked, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah?"

"Yes, you did sign a permission slip. Ms. McGonagall said she has one from all the parents."

So my dad said, "Wah wah wah wah wah wah, wah, wah, wah, wah."

"Eeeewwwww. Dad, that's so gross. You know I don't take Zachary out for a walk after he's eaten because of that reason."

I had met Padma, Parvati and Susan at school. They were wearing very fashionable clothes. Not like any of the other riders on the bus. Especially that Harry Potter who wore a drab green jacket.

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Okay, young people. Let's load up on the bus. You'll be assigned a partner once we've gotten to Wild Albus' Telescope Rentals. Speaking of which, you all remembered to bring your rental money, correct? Good, good. Nothing like a little kickbac… I mean nothing like your fine school spirit helping to support after school activities. Keep in mind that you'll be graded on your ability to find star constellations. That is all. Resume vacant stares."

I sat with Padma near the back of the bus as that was where the popular kids sat. I don't understand why. Maybe it had something to do with being the furthest away from Mr. Lockhart. I guess it didn't matter. We were the popular ones so we sat where it was popular.

The bus started and I could swear I recognized the bus driver from somewhere but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was on the tip of my tongue. We pulled out of the parking lot and got on the road. It was nearly dark as we started. A couple minutes into the trip the voices in my head started making more racket than a few minutes earlier. Some of the voices asked questions.

So then a voice asked, "Um, Ms. McGonagall? Are we there yet?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "No."

So then another voice asked, "How about now?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "No."

And some of the voices, ones I recognized, asked other questions.

So then Blaise said, "Parvati, can I be your telescope partner?"

So then Seamus said, "Don't listen to him, Parvati. Can I be your telescope partner? I can find stars easier than him."

So then Draco said, "Don't listen to him either, Parvati. Be my telescope partner."

So then Parvati said, "Guys, guys. I can't be expected to pick out my telescope partner on such short notice. Give me time. I'll think it over. Of course if I had a soda I could think things over a little easier."

So then Blaise said, "I'll find you a soda."

So then Seamus said, "How? We're on a bus, you moron."

So then Blaise said, "Who's a moron, you moron!"

So then Draco said, "Hey, Ron, do you have a soda?"

I was sitting next to Padma. I remembered when boys used to do that kind of thing for Padma and I'd get a little of the leftover gratitude from them as well. I really missed those days. Becoming more fashion conscientious hasn't replaced those good old days. Sometimes I think guys couldn't see fashion even if it was in front of their nose.

A few rows in front of us, that weird Harry and his friend, that Hermione-girl, walked back towards us.

So then Harry said, "Parvati, do you have any idea why Blaise, Draco or Seamus came up to me and asked if I had a soda they could borrow?"

So then Parvati said, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Harry."

So then Harry said, "Yeah, right. Anyway since you're all fresh meat on this assignment…"

So then Padma said, "What?"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "You know, fresh meat. Newbies. You don't know what the hell is going on."

So then Susan said, "What?"

So then Harry said, "It's like this, see. As you know we have a full moon tonight. That means we'll be counting on you to sacrifice yourselves for us once the plethora of supernatural beings that come out during times like this decide to pounce. As is, we're anticipating at least one of us won't be coming back tonight."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "At least, not in one piece."

So then Padma said, "What?"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "You know, werewolves, vampires, that sort of thing. If we were across the state line then it would be our responsibility to keep you safe but since we're here, it's your responsibility to keep us safe."

So then Susan said, "You're just trying to scare us. There's no such thing as werewolves or vampires."

Hey, they were trying to scare us. I've seen Scared Straight. Straight. George Straight. He looks good in jeans. Not many people could pull it off but he can. But that cowboy hat… it has to go. It's so… 80's.

So then Harry said, "Sure I'm trying to scare you. You keep telling yourself that and you just might believe it."

So then Parvati said, "Oh, ha, ha, Harry. Can you go and sit down now?"

So then Harry said, "Sure, but have any of you given any thought as to who you want to partner up with on this assignment?"

So then Padma said, "I'm sure we'll be perfectly fine on our own, thank you very much."

So then Harry said, "No problem. But remember not to stray too far outside of Wild Albus' lighting area. You wouldn't want to…"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Harry! You said you weren't going to bring that up again."

So then Harry said, "Hermione, they have a right to know."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Look, it was never confirmed. They never found her body. For all anyone knows, she just took off and wasn't eaten by a wild ani…"

So then Harry said, "Sssshhhhh. Not so loud. You don't want Ron to freak out again. Not like last year."

Ron, who was sitting in front of me turned around.

So then Ron said, "What are you guys talking about? I didn't freak out last year. I got all the constellations right. Orion's boot. The Taurus dipper."

So then Pansy said, "Isn't that what your mom drives?"

So then Ron said, "Oh, ho, ho, ho, good one, babe. No. She drives a two-door."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "You remember, Ron. When your partner came up missing on the bus ride back last year. Some said you were to blame for her disappearance."

So then Pansy said, "Ronnie!"

So then Ron said, "Uh. Oh, yeah. That's right. But it wasn't my fault. She must have gotten on another bus is all."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "There was only one bus last year like there's one bus this year, Ron. Now did you or did you not kiss her?! We have ways of making you talk, you know."

So then Pansy said, "Ronnie!!"

So then Ron said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Um… you can't rattle me. Yeah. That's right. I'm the QB. Nothing rattles me. I'm cool under fire. I don't know what you're talking about."

So then Harry said, "Oh yeah? What about when… whisper, whisper, whisper."

So then Ron said, "Aaaaaaahhhhh! Oh god! Not again. I thought I'd forgotten that. Boo-hoo-hoo! Why?! Why does God hate me like this?!"

Ron turned around and slumped in his seat, that Pansy person near him patting him on the back with a "there, there," or something. I sort of lost interest and quit listening.

Harry and that Hermione-girl went and sat down again. As they walked away I heard them say something.

So then that Hermione-girl said, "That was almost too easy with Ron."

So then Harry said, "Like shooting fish in a barrel."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Stupid fish. Makes you wonder how they got in the barrel in the first place."

So then Harry said, "Not really."

Blaise, Draco and Seamus, who had returned to their seats by now, started mumbling nervously to one another. So did Parvati, Susan and Padma. I don't know what the big deal was. All that Harry said to Ron was that he had heard that the NFL was going on strike again and that the Superbowl was going to be canceled as a result, leaving room for a three hour marathon session of in-depth makeover tips. That was a good thing. Not a bad thing. Oh well. Padma would figure out what to do. And then maybe some of those voices will get a little softer and I can go back to thinking of important matters. Makeup inventory.

Then it hit me. I looked at that Harry and his friend. They were smiling in a weird kind of way. Like, when Padma smiles. That was frightening. Or it would have been if I hadn't stayed up late the other night watching the horror network play Howling I – III. It was classic foreshadowing. They knew something. Someone was going to die. Bummer. Too bad someone had to die. It wouldn't be Harry, though, as the pretty people (as pretty as a boy can be I guess) were usually saved for last. It was usually the "mean" pretty ones who were the first to go. That made Padma a prime target.

"Parvati? Would you mind switching seats with me? I need to talk with Susan for uhhhh…." Drat. What was that word I was looking for? Where a psycho would feel compassion towards you and let you go. Hmmm.

So Parvati said, "Weight advice?"

Close enough. "Yeah," I said. I scooted over to a new seat. Susan had a much better survival rating.

A few minutes later all hell broke loose.

Padma broke a nail.

The bus stopped a few minutes later not from Padma breaking a nail but from the cause of what caused her to break a nail. A car had crossed a double yellow line to get around the bus and had almost gotten hit head-on for it. The driver managed to save his car by swerving in front of the bus which caused the bus driver to swerve so he wouldn't hit the car. The resulting swerving of the bus not only caused Padma to break a nail but also caused the engine to stop working on the bus. It must've had a seizure.

So then the bus driver said, "Of all the IDIOTIC, MORONIC driving, IF YOU COULD CALL IT THAT! I bet even RON wouldn't have DONE THAT bad!"

So then Ron said, "Hey, thanks Mr. S.!"

The bus driver's speech pattern was familiar. I know I'd heard that voice before. If only all these other voices weren't going on and on in my ears.

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Okay, young people. Off the bus and stretch your legs. That's it. Off you go. You too, Miss Patil."

We all got off the bus and walked on some unsanitary dirt. The bus driver had pulled over to the shoulder and was trying to get the bus restarted. The bus didn't sound like it wanted to get moving. I knew that feeling.

So then the bus driver said, "C'mon, start you lousy good for nothing piece of… bloody… if only I'd rammed…"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "What's the verdict, Mr. Snape?"

Snape! No wonder he seemed so familiar. He must've been related to my history teacher. I think.

Do then Mr. Snape said, "It won't start."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "I can see that."

Do then Mr. Snape said, "Good. Now can you TELL ME why I ever LEFT the service to become a TEACHER?! All I EVER seem to do is work on either NON-RESPONSIVE STUDENTS or non-responsive buses. Where's the regular bus driver ANYWAY?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Never mind that, just get that bus working. (softer) Lousy union concessions… If only I could have… (louder) Okay, how much time are we looking at?"

Do then Mr. Snape said, "Radio in for another bus, you're looking at another hour. During which I'll probably figure out what the heck's gone wrong with the engine and fix it. Your call."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Fix it. In the meantime… (much louder) Okay, people, we're only a few miles from Wild Albus' so we'll have to hike the last bit. Once Mr. Snape here has fixed the bus he'll meet us up there for the ride back. Any questions?"

So then some nameless student said, "What if we don't want to go hiking in the woods in the middle of the night?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Then you'll get failing grades on this project."

So then the nameless student said, "Better failing grades then to break your neck or get attacked by wild animals."

So then another nameless student said, "That goes for me too. I'm not going, not after hearing the rumors of wild animals attacking people in the woods."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Those wild animals died out over a hundred years ago, young people!"

So then the first nameless student said, "Doesn't matter. They're probably just hiding and waiting for us to let our guard down so they can pounce on us when we're least expecting it."

Do then Mr. Snape said, "I know what that feels like."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Ms. McGonagall, maybe we should leave some of the more sensitive ones behind to help Severus get the bus running. I'm sure they'll make it to the telescope site in plenty of time."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Fine. Who here has the guts to go for a night hike up a mysterious mountain?"

Of course no one raised a hand.

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Fine. Who here has the guts to go for a night hide up a mysterious mountain with a guaranteed "B" no matter what? And you'll still get an "A" if you get the constellations right."

A minute later about 20 hands were up in the air. A "B"! That would be my first of the year!

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Better. Okay, Gilderoy, let's get them going."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Um, I thought it might be better if I…"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "You thought wrong, mister! Just think of one thing as you march up this mountain: tenure."

So that was how 20 students and two teachers began hiking up a mountain trail at night, with a full moon out.

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Okay, people. We're going to head up this trail towards Wild Albus' Telescope Rentals. It's only four or five miles, so no bellyaching back there. That means you, Mr. Potter."

I thought I heard some grumbling behind me but there was only that Hermione-girl and Harry. I looked over at Parvati. She wasn't grumbling. She was saying something to Susan. I hoped it wasn't about how my dress made me look fat. The complaints started anyway. At least that's what the voices I heard in my head seemed to be saying. I didn't mind the walk. It was easier to take long walks without having a dog on the leash that wanted to go everywhere, sniff everything or leave its body fluids (ewww) on just about everything. About five minutes into the walk some of the guys ahead of us rushed back to chat with us.

No, wait. Chat with Parvati.

So then Blaise said, "Parvati, blah blah blah?"

So then Draco said, "No, Parvati, blah blah blah?"

So then Seamus said, "Don't listen to him, Parvati. Blah blah blah?"

So then Parvati said, "Guys, I really don't think blah blah blah." This sounded somewhat familiar so I lost interest. I'm sure it was the same thing she always said. It sounded like the same thing they always said.

I wish they made a fuss over me that way.

I was walking slightly behind Parvati, with Susan and Padma ahead of her. Behind me was Harry, that Hermione-girl and a couple other nameless kids who I didn't find out their names since if they didn't have a name then their survival rating was way down and would be mountain lion food before too long. It was kind of like someone wearing a red shirt on Star Trek – certain death. Only with fewer fashion violations.

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Look at the full moon. Makes you wonder doesn't it?"

So then Harry said, "Wonder about if we have sufficient light so we don't misstep and fall down a ravine and break our necks?"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Well I was going to say it makes you wonder if we're alone in the forest or if there are any carnivorous beasts laying in wait or already stalking us but yours is much more upbeat."

So then the letch said, "A fine night for a walk isn't it?"

So then Harry said, "Speaking of carnivorous beasts. Get lost, Neville."

Oh, right. Neville. I always get his name confused. He has a lot of them. Everyone calls him something different. It must be nice to have a lot of nicknames.

So then Letch, I mean, Neville said, "Grrowwl, feisty. You know, my precious Hermione, if you are afraid of the dark I could lend you my escort services."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "In your dreams."

So then Harry said, "Don't get him started, Hermione. I don't want to hear about it."

So then Neville said, "Are you sure….?"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "I'd rather be eaten by ravenous army ants."

So then Neville said, "Now my feisty Hermione, there aren't any army ants…."

So then Harry said, "Then what do you call those things crawling up your pants?"

So then Neville said, "Eeeeekkk! Get 'em off, get 'em off!"

So then Harry said, "I hear rolling around on the ground can crush them before they start biting your flesh into shreds."

Neville dropped and rolled on the ground.

So then that Hermione-girl said, "You're not putting your heart into it, Neville! There's more than ever! Roll faster! Faster! Move it, move it!"

Neville rolled over and over and over and kind of fell down an incline.

So then Neville said, "…eeeeeiiii……." The sound became fainter.

So then Harry said, "Have you thought of becoming a drill instructor, Hermione?"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "You wish."

So then Harry said, "C'mon, be one of the few, the proud."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Can I order you to take my sister out on a date?"

So then Harry said, "You wish."

I liked listening to their voices. It wasn't the same as most of the other voices I normally heard in my head. They actually made sense. Some of the time. When I could follow what they were saying. Which was only some of the time.

Ms. McGonagall came back to investigate what all the noise was that Letch, I mean, Neville made.

So then Harry said, "Neville fall down, go boom."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "And just what caused him to fall down?"

"Army ants," I said.

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "…grumble… lousy kids…. Alright. Remain here and remain calm. I will deal with the situation as a trained administrative professional. Mr. Lockhart, you're in charge until I get back. Mr. Weasley, you'll come with me."

So then Ron said, "Why me? I'm the QB. You don't want to risk losing me to vampire werewolves do you?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "What are you talking about, young man?"

So then Harry said, "Does anyone ever really know?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Good point, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley, you're coming with me and that's final."

So then Ron said, "But…"

So then Harry said, "Maybe there's pro scouts down there, Ron."

So then Ron said, "Hey, yeah! Okay, Ms. … uh…"

So then Harry said, "McGonagall. Three syllables."

So then Ron said, "Oh yeah! Ms. Three Syllables. I'm the QB. I'll do it."

So off they went.

So then that Hermione-girl said, "You're really evil, you know that?"

So then Harry said, "I do what I can."

I didn't like the looks of this. It was how every reported account started. First the thingie or psycho divides the group and then starts stalking each one, killing them. I needed to stay close to Susan. She was cute and vulnerable meaning she held a good survival rating. No one would kill her until she was the last one left.

We stood around for about five more minutes before Ron came running back up towards us.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Ron, what is it? Where's Minerva?"

So then Ron said, "…sniffle, sob… It was horrible, man! Horrible!"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "What was? Get a hold of yourself!"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "You want me to slap him around some?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "I don't think that will help him, Hermione."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Who said anything about it helping _him_?"

So then Ron said, "We… we were going down towards where the pro scouts were when I got distracted for a moment. I turned my head only for a moment and the next Ms. McGonagall was gone."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "So you ran back up here, is that it?"

So then Ron said, "No. I'm the QB, remember? I have duties not every kid in high school has."

So then Harry said, "Do these duties include drinking massive amounts of beer?"

So then Ron said, "Yeah! Anyway, I knew I had to find her. So I went forward another hundred feet or so when I stepped into something. I looked down and there was blood and bones everywhere! It was gruesome! And a few feet further was Ms. Syllable's severed head lying near some bushes. Oh god, it was horrible!"

Padma, Susan, Parvati and I gasped. It was horrible alright. No automatic B on this assignment.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "So that's when you ran back up, right?"

So then Harry said, "I bet that's not the first thing he did."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "I don't want to take that bet. Nor would I want to do his laundry."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Okay, everyone, this has certainly put a damper on tonight's festivities…"

"Killings usually do that," I said. Everyone looked at me. "What?" I wasn't saying anything that wasn't already obvious.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "…um… okay. Anyway, what we're going to do next is band together and hurry up to Wild Albus' where I'm sure he has a telephone so we can call for help."

So then Harry said, "Have you ever been to Wild Albus' Telescope Rentals?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "No, but how hard can it be to find? All we have to do is ask the first bear in blue jeans wearing a hat and holding a shovel we come across for directions."

So then Parvati said, "Oh, god. We're all going to die."

So then Padma said, "Parvati, like, get ahold of yourself already."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Do you want me to slap her around for you?"

So then Padma said, "She might need it."

So then Parvati said, "How's that going to help me?"

So then Padma said, "Who said anything about it helping _you_?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Okay, everyone. I'll take… um… the first position…"

So then Harry said, "Point."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "…um… okay. Anyway, I'll take the first position and everyone else should stay calm and follow closely behind me. I'll get us out of here. Don't you worry. In fact, turn those frowns upside down and we'll make an adventure out of it."

Padma, Parvati, Susan, Hannah, Dean, Pansy, Ron, Blaise, Draco, Seamus, that Hermione-girl, Theodore, the other nameless kids and myself all turned from Mr. Lockhart towards Harry.

So then Harry said, "We might as well as follow him. He's going in the right direction after all. And besides, if any wild animals do show up, we can always throw Mr. Lockhart to it which will buy us time to get to safety."

That made sense. Everyone liked that idea. So did I. He didn't have a very good survival rating. So we clustered around Mr. Lockhart and began climbing the mountain again, going a little bit faster this time. We were trying to be quiet in order to listen for werewolves or jaguars. The cat, not the car. But it's a very nice car. Anyway, I heard that Hermione-girl say something to Harry.

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Too bad we're not on a sleigh with the wolves behind us, eh?"

So then Harry said, "Hmmm. The ice-cold breath of old man winter in Siberia or a warm spring evening on a mountain with death and mayhem in the air. I don't know which one appeals to me more."

"You could try giving him some gum," I said.

So then Harry said, "What?"

"Some gum. Old man Winter. I bet he has terrible breath. My old uncle does. I try to give him gum all the time. He won't take it because he says it causes his teeth to fall out."

So then Parvati said, "Lavender, I think you should stay close to Mr. Lockhart so you can… um…"

So then Harry said, "Give us the details on his leadership so we don't step in it."

"Um. Okay. I guess."

And that was how a few minutes later I was walking behind Mr. Lockhart. He walked upwards. Ever onwards. If he kept it up much longer I was sure to break a sweat. And that would be bad.

I wondered if Susan had an anti-sweat mascara. I looked back towards my friends. They were near the end of the line with the other 15 students.

Oooooofff. I nearly tripped on a tree root. Of all the lousy places to put it, why did someone have to put it on this trail? What was I thinking of before? Oh, right. Mascara.

I looked back to ask Susan a question and saw she was at the rear of the line with the other 12 people.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "…mumble…. dammit, Sybil… you know I …." Or something. I was beginning to lose interest in what he said. But it was freaky. Mr. Lockhart was beginning to sound like my grandfather. He certainly had about as much fashion sense as him.

"Susan?" I asked, turning around while walking again. Only she wasn't there. She wasn't in the line with any of the other 9 people.

I turned around and didn't want to think of it. This was bad.

I turned around again and counted again to make sure. Yep. There were only 6 other people in line.

This was very bad.

"Um, Mr. Lockhart," I said, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Hhhhowwwwwwwllllllll!!" went the first of the howls in the distance.

This was very, very bad.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "I don't think we'd better stop for a restroom break now, Lavender. I think we'd better hurry it up."

I looked behind us and saw the same kind of fear I felt on the remaining 4 people.

This was very, very, very bad.

"Um, Mr. Lockhart," I said, tapping him on the shoulder again.

"Hhhhowwwwwwwllllllll!!" went the howl again.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Not now, Lavender. This isn't good. In fact, I think we'd better make a run for it."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me along, starting to run. This was very, very, very bad. My shoes weren't designed for this kind of activity.

I looked behind us again and saw that we were alone. On a plus note at least the constant voices I kept hearing were quiet again. Well, most of them.

Then it went from bad to worse. In the distance I heard the recognizable blood curdling scream of Padma. And a few minutes later I heard faint voices shouting, then some more screaming, then some more faint howling and then it was all quiet again.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Gasp! It must've gotten them. C'mon, Lavender! I'll save you if it's the last thing I do!

This was when Mr. Lockhart saw the barn. We ran to it, got in, and he closed the doors, barricading it with a piece of wood. We'd heard a few more distant screams in the night. But the peace and tranquility of the barn lasted only about another 10 minutes until the creature outside finally showed up.

Which brings us back to where this story started.

The east wall shook from the brunt of an attack, but still held. The closer creature was getting bold, and Mr. Lockhart was panicking more. Dust and straw fell from above. Looking up I noticed how big the hole in the ceiling really was. When _it_ first showed up, I boarded and locked up everything I could, but I hadn't counted on that hole.

Unfortunately, Mr. Lockhart noticed it too. He gasped.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Darnnit, Lavender! It'll get through that hole in the roof! We need to do something!"

What was this _we_ thingie? If I went up there, I was sure to break a nail. Or mess up my shoes. Maybe even get a splinter. But the creature heard what Mr. Lockhart screamed and began climbing up the side of the barn. Huffing and puffing all the time. Nail be darned, I had to do something. I couldn't let it in. I had to protect Mr. Lockhart -- I had to, or I wouldn't get a passing grade and would need to go to summer school. That was sooooo wrong.

Reaching the top, it turned out I was too late. I noticed gleaming fangs grinning triumphantly at me. Then the shape fell through the hole, and landed on Mr. Lockhart below.

So then Mr. Lockhart let out a loud, "Aaaaahhhhh."

So then the big thingie said, "Uuuuhhhffff," as it rolled off Mr. Lockhart. "Sorry about that."

It sounded like a guy.

He got to his feet and looked up at me. He probably noticed I was fat.

So then the big hairy guy said, "Greetings, sir and madam. My name is Derrick Wierwulf and I'm from the life insurance company of Carnage, Cartilage, and Smith and…"

So then Mr. Lockhart screamed, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeekkkk! A life-insurance selling werewolf!! We're doomed!!"

So then the big hairy guy said, "Geez, not again. Look buddy, I'm not a werewolf, okay?"

"Werewolf?" I asked.

So then Mr. Lockhart said/blubbered, "Werewolf!" And he pointed at the big hairy guy.

So then the big hairy guy said, "Oy. Fine. Werewolf."

"There wolf," I said, pointing in the distance as I saw something on four legs baying at the moon. "There door," I pointed again.

So then the big hairy guy asked, "Why are you talking like that?"

"I thought you wanted to."

So then the big hairy guy said, "No, not really. I've had a long night, okay."

"Suit yourself."

So then the big hairy guy asked, "Do you need any help getting down from there?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Lavender! Don't trust him! He's a werewolf!"

So then the big hairy guy said, "Look mack, it's been a long night. Give it a rest already. I'm not a friggin' werewolf, okay?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Then how do you explain all that grunting and heavy breathing you were doing outside?"

So then the big hairy guy said, "Look, there was some howling in the distance and I sure didn't want to end up like as some critter's dinner so I ran up the trail and saw this barn. You try running up a mountain with asthma sometime and see how short of breath you get."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Then what about all your hair? How do you explain that?"

So then the big hairy guy said, "Hey, it's genetics, man. You try shaving 3 times a day."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "What about your unusual displays of strength and all?"

So then the big hairy guy said, "Hey, it's genetics, man. When I hit puberty, it just sort of sprang up on me and all. One day I'm walking around at 150 pounds and the next thing you know I've gained a hundred pounds of muscle. How embarrassing."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "You're not wearing a shirt, just like a werewolf would do at night."

So then the big hairy guy said, "Hey, it's hot out there, dude. You try rushing up a mountain to help some school kids when you have as much hair as me and see if you don't sweat a little."

"Eeeewwwwww."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Then what about your snout? How do you explain that?"

"Mr. Lockhart, that's just rude. Besides, it's not that big."

So then the big hairy guy said, "Thanks." And he helped me down. I got a better look at his nose.

"It's just a little… fat is all."

So then the big hairy guy said, "Thanks a lot." I don't think he really meant it though.

"What was your name again?" I asked.

So then the big hairy guy said, "Derrick _Wier_wulf. Wier. As in Weird but no 'd' if that makes it any easier."

"No, not really. 'errick is hard to say. Can I call you Derrick instead?"

So then 'errick said, "Sure. For you, anything." That was nice because it was hard spelling 'errick when I could spell Derrick a lot easier.

And when he looked at me, the voices seemed very faint. That was nice. Still one voice persisted.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Aaaaahhhh, I can't move my arm. I think it's broken."

"Mr. Lockhart," I said. "I'm trying to talk here. What was it you did again, Derrick?"

So then Derrick said, "Well, I sell health insurance. That looks like a pretty nasty break you've got there, pal. Too bad my policies don't cover pre-existing conditions."

"I don't get it," I said.

So then Derrick said, "I sell health as well as life insurance policies, Lavender."

"I don't get it," I said.

So then Derrick said, "Insurance. It pays the bills when you either die or get hurt. Like, what if a wild animal was to maul you?"

"I don't think I have to worry about that. I'm not fat anymore. Animals go after fat people, not thin people."

So then Derrick looked at me and said, "You sure are thin at that. What are you, anorexic?"

"No." As if.

So then Derrick asked, "Bulimic?"

"No. Throw up? No way. That would discolor my teeth." I opened my purse. "Here's how I stay in shape. I take Flintstone Chewables, Ritalin, Vitamin A, Adderall, Calcium, Concerta, some Vitamin E, Dexedrine…"

So then Derrick said, "Jeez, you're a walking pharmacy, Lavender."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "I don't suppose you have any pain killers or aspirin in there, do you?"

"Mr. Lockhart! I'm trying to talk here. Now where were we, Derrick? Oh yes, you don't think this dress makes me look fat do you – especially to wild animals?"

So then Derrick said, "Look, Lavender. I'm only a few years older than you and I may not know much of what's what in the world, but I can tell you one thing for sure. You are not fat. If anything, look at me. I'm fat. Look at these love handles." He grabbed a handful of skin and tissue with each hand and warbled it around like silly putty.

That was sooooooo… sooooooo… what was that word? Sooooo not-right.

"You're not fat. You're just a little… fat."

So then Derrick said, "Thanks a lot." I think that was another one of those not-real thanks.

"But it looks good on you." It really did. As long as he didn't warble those love handles.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Could someone make me a splint?"

"Mr. Lockhart… I'm in the middle of something here."

So then Derrick said, "You think being fat looks good on me?"

"Oh, yeah."

So then Derrick said, "You're not just saying that, are you?"

"Of course not. You have larger problems then being fat. I mean, just look at your receding hairline."

So then Derrick said, "Thanks a lot." This time, I think he meant it. He sure did have nice eyes.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Oh, the agony…"

"Mr. Lockhart… That's just being rude."

We heard the howling every now and then. I didn't mind it so much as Derrick was there with me.

"…and then Parvati said, 'Oh, no, Padma, I could never replace you. At which point Padma said…"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "I don't suppose either of you could hand me that piece of wood over there so I can make a splint?"

So then Derrick said, "Pssst, dude. C'mon, help me out here. I'm trying to score – can't you give it a rest for a bit?"

"Yeaaaaahhhhh," I said.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "If only my Sybil were here…"

So then Derrick said, "Well, she's not so ix-nay on the whining for a bit, okay?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Bwah-hah-hah. What kind of cold-hearted animal are you anyway?"

So then Derrick said, "Hey! I may be morally-challenged but I am definitely NOT living-challenged."

Titter That was actually funny. "I so understand."

So then Derrick said, "You actually got the gist of what I said?"

"Sure. How can you not be living-challenged when you're not dead? Basic tenet of horror 101."

So then Derrick said, "Y'know, most girls I've asked wouldn't have gotten that. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "I suspect that she'll have a lot of free time now – since you've killed all of her friends."

So then Derrick said, "Killed? Geez, this geezer's got a one-track mind. Okay, I'll humor you. Whatever gave you that impression?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "All the screams in the night we heard before you got here. You killed all those students."

So then Derrick said, "Oh, that. Well, it's not like what you think at all. You see, it's kind of like this. I was traveling up the road when I noticed your school bus broken down on the shoulder. I pulled over and saw a lot of kids sitting on the bus who didn't really want to look at me. That's okay – I kind of have that effect on people. The hood was up and someone was working on the engine. I went up to this crazy looking guy. He was holding a hammer and screaming at the engine. At least, I hoped it was the engine. He screamed, 'You stupid hunk of junk! You'd better work this time or so help me when I get you back to the yard you're going straight to the crusher! Ha! You hear that! THE CRUSHER! Work dammit!!' It was kind of weird the way his eye bugged out like that. So anyway I offer to help the driver…"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Mr. Snape."

So then Derrick said, "Whatever. Anyway, I offer to help this Snape and the guy goes totally off the deep end and whacks the engine with blow after blow from the hammer. I thought I'd better just start backing up, jump in my car and get away. Far away. But dammed if that bus just didn't start up. So anyway this Snape fellow looks at me. His right eye all bloodshot and just about pulsing. I thought brain aneurysm but he just kept on talking. 'You want to help me, boy?' he asked in as scary a voice I've heard since I watched the Nightmare series last week…"

"That Freddy was such a fashion violation," I said.

So then Derrick said, "True, but I think that was the point. Anyway Snape says to me 'I tell you what you can do for me, boy. I'm sure that incompetent principal, Ms. McGonagall, has gotten everyone lost so if you can see and know how to navigate in the dark, you could assist me in getting her and the students off that stupid mountainside.' This was too good to be true, I thought. I agreed to help get them back to the bus and rushed up after the students. I could see it now – multiple orders for life insurance policies being sold on a dark mountainside. Nothing increases sales like some good old fear."

"Horror tenet #2."

So then Derrick said, "You bet. The night was warm and up I went. How hard could it be to find a group of students and a principal I thought. Hoo-boy. What a mistake that was. Anyhoo, I'm heading up the mountain. Here it is a warm night. You can hear all these noises in the woods like crrriiick, crrriiick, crrriiick or hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Sounds like an owl."

So then Derrick said, "Whatever you say, old dude. Psst, Lavender, is he kind of loopy or what?"

"Or what what?"

So then Derrick said, "Got it. So I'm going on up, following your path. It wasn't hard since you all managed to go up in a group and crushed all the vegetation along the way. I'm walking up and I see a split off from the main group. I follow the split and walk into a clearing and step into something really disgusting."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Ms. McGonagall."

So then Derrick said, "Was that who the head was near the pile of blood and gore? Huh. How about that. Well, I'm not ashamed to say that that freaked me out and I went back to where the group split and followed the larger group further up the mountain. About then I heard this totally uncool howling in the distance and figured there must be wolves nearby so hurried up the mountain since it was closer to the rest of you all."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Closer to a life insurance policy, you mean?"

So then Derrick said, "You want to tell this story? Okay, then. So here I am hurrying up the mountain, when I encounter something. I look closer and can see some kids hiding behind some bushes. I couldn't get a good view of a couple of them but one was wearing a lot of black. So I go towards the bushes and introduce myself as Derrick Wierwulf, Life Insurance salesman… at which point they scream 'It's a Life Insurance Selling Werewolf!!' And then the rotten little bastards start throwing rocks at me. So I do the prudent thing and took off running further up the mountain. This is getting weird, I think. A few minutes later I see a couple girls hiding behind some trees. Again I go and introduce myself as Derrick Wierwulf, Life Insurance salesman… at which point they scream 'It's a Life Insurance Selling Werewolf!!' And then they start throwing bottles of nail polish at me. So I do the prudent thing, again, and take off running further up the mountain."

"That was sooooo wrong."

So then Derrick said, "I'll say."

"That was a waste of perfectly good nail polish."

So then Derrick said, "Up I go some more. I see a couple more kids hiding behind some trees. Again I go and introduce myself as Derrick Wierwulf, Life Insurance salesman… at which point they scream 'It's a Life Insurance Selling Werewolf!!' And again they throw some rocks at me. Again, I go on up. It beat the hell out of going down and getting clobbered by kids with rocks. This time I see two girls and a guy. I approach slowly but they must have heard me anyway. This guy in a green jacket and the girl in a red coat climb up the tree. The other girl just hid behind some bushes. Again I go and introduce myself as Derrick Wierwulf, Life Insurance salesman… at which point the girl hiding behind the bush screams 'It's a Life Insurance Selling Werewolf!!' But instead of throwing rocks at me she whips a can of soda at me and I get clobbered. Which of course meant the soda in the can went all over my shirt. And since I was sweating anyway…"

"Eeeewwwwwww."

So then Derrick said, "…I went ahead and took it off. No sense wearing a sticky shirt on a warm night. And again I kept going up the mountain. So next time I hear these three guys coming on down looking for a Parvati or someone when I hide in some bushes. They seem to head right for me so I stand up and introduce myself as Derrick Wierwulf, Life Insurance salesman… at which point they scream 'It's a Life Insurance Selling Werewolf!!'"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "And threw rocks at you."

So then Derrick said, "Right. Well, at this point I'm getting a little tired and sore from all the rocks being thrown at me so I sneak up to some bushes where I hear some movement and what do I see but this clown in a football uniform and a cheerleader making out. And what do I do but stupidly introduce myself as Derrick Wierwulf, Life Insurance salesman… at which point they scream 'It's a Life Insurance Selling Werewolf!!' And again they throw some rocks at me. By this time the howling was getting closer. I found the path again and it headed for this barn. So I hoof it up here as fast as I can. I wanted to shout to get in but was breathing so hard I couldn't get my voice under control. So I banged on the walls to get you to open the door before the critter, whatever it was, came after me. I heard the old duff here cry something about an opening in the roof or 2nd level or something so I found a ladder outside and climbed up and sort of fell in."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "On me."

So then Derrick said, "Er… yeah. Sorry about that. Anyway, that's how I ended up here."

"Hooooooowwwwlll!!" The howling had gotten a little bit closer.

Then the doors rattled!

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick and I gasped.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf. Don't open it! Bwah-hah-hah!"

So then Derrick said, "Contrary to what spineless here says, I think we need to answer it. What do you think we should do, Lavender?"

Someone actually asking my opinion. He sure had a nice voice. "I think we should answer it."

So then Derrick said, "You got it. Who's out there?!"

So then a voice said, "It's Ghandi! Who the heck do you think it is?!"

So then Derrick said, "Not Ghandi! He's dead!"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf! Don't let him in!"

So then Ghandi said, "Geez, already! It's Wild Albus! Now let me in!"

"Are you fashionably dressed?!"

So then Wild Albus said, "Huh?! What the heck are you asking that for? Hell no I'm not fashionably dressed! This is the mountains after all!"

So then Derrick said, "Why ask that Lavender?"

"Stands to reason that if there was a werewolf out there he'd say he anything to get in, including saying he was fashionably dressed. And how could that be since they were in the mountains and all."

So then Derrick said, "I won't even pretend to understand that. But you haven't been wrong yet, so here goes."

Derrick opened the doors and some guy in blue jeans, flannel shirt (plaid even!), walking boots and glasses came in. He was over six feet tall with short dark hair. I could tell immediately that he wasn't the werewolf. It was apparent. Glasses? I think not. Derrick closed the door behind him.

So then Wild Albus said, "You one of the students from Ms. McGonagall's group?"

So then Derrick said, "What do you think?"

So then Wild Albus said, "I think you're awfully hairy."

So then Derrick said, "I think you're ready for a fat lip."

"Could we please not talk about fat?"

So then Derrick said, "Sorry. So what's your story, pal? Why're you out here?"

So then Wild Albus said, "I'm the owner of Wild Albus' Telescope Rentals and I got a little worried when Ms. McGonagall didn't show up with her latest group of telescope renters. If she thinks she can stiff me after I've already paid… uh… anyway I came down the trail, heard some of that weird howling and was simply heading to where I heard some other noise when some people jumped out from behind trees and started throwing rocks at me. Little bastards. So if you're not from Ms. McGonagall's group, who are you?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "He's a werewolf! You don't have any drugs on you by chance do you?"

"Mr. Lockhart! You're embarrassing me!"

So then Wild Albus said, "He always like this?"

So then Derrick (who rolled his eyes) said, "He has been tonight. Name's Derrick, this is Lavender and the stiff on the ground's Mr. Lockhart."

So then Wild Albus said, "So he thinks you're a werewolf?"

So then Derrick said, "He thought you were a werewolf."

So then Wild Albus said, "Well, something's out there."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's a werewolf I tell you."

"Mr. Lockhart!"

But then the doors shook again as someone or some_thing_ pounded on it.

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus and I gasped.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf. Don't open it! Bwah-hah-hah!"

So then Derrick said, "Lavender?"

He still had a nice voice. "We'd better answer it."

So then Derrick said, "You got it. Who's out there?!"

So then a voice said, "It's George Burns and Gracie Allen! Who the heck do you think it is?!"

So then another voice said, "Gee, I thought my name was Pansy."

So then Derrick said, "Not George Burns or Gracie Allen! They're dead!"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf! Don't let him in!"

So then George Burns said, "Geez, already! It's Ron and Pansy! Let us in!"

Derrick opened the door and Ron and Pansy came in. The doors were closed after they came in.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Ron! Pansy! Did either of you see any other students out there?"

So then Ron said, "No but we saw the werewolf. It was horrible, man!"

So then Pansy said, "I'll say. Ronnie and I were kissing and this really hairy beast came up and startled us so we threw some rocks at it and it ran away. So we decided to head back towards the bus and found this barn instead. So then Kevvie said it looked like a good place to make out and we heard the howling and stuff…"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Um… Pansy? You do realize that this barn is further up the mountain and away from the bus don't you?"

So then Pansy said, "It is? Ronnie! You said you knew which direction you were going!"

So then Ron said, "Sure, babe. We were headed south, the same way the moon comes up every morning."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Bwah-hah-hah. We're all going to die."

So then Derrick said, "Lavender, are these two in a special class or something?"

I didn't have time to answer him as the doors shook again as someone or some_thing_ pounded on it.

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus, Ron, Pansy and I gasped.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf. Don't open it! Bwah-hah-hah!"

So then Derrick said, "Who's out there?!"

So then a girl's voice said, "It's Picasso, the Soviet Union and Lassie! Who the heck do you think it is?!"

So then another girl's voice said, "Hey! I'm not a dog!"

So then Derrick said, "Not Picasso, the Soviet Union or Lassie! They're dead!"

"Lassie's dead? When did that happen?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf! Don't let him in!"

So then Picasso said, "What is this, 20 questions?! Geez, already! It's Hermione, Harry and Parvati! Just open the damn door!"

Derrick opened the door and that Hermione-girl, Harry and Parvati came in. The doors were then closed.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Harry, Hermione! Did either of you see any other students out there?"

So then Parvati said, "No but we saw the werewolf. It was horrible! I was able to send it running after I threw my can of soda at it."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "In fact the werewolf kind of looked like the guy who opened the door for us."

But then the doors shook again as someone or some_thing_ pounded on it.

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus, Ron, Pansy, Harry…

But then Harry said, "I don't gasp, Lavender."

"You don't?"

So then Harry said, "Have you ever heard me gasp?" 

"Nooooo…"

So then Harry said, "Well there you have it. No precedent. Therefore I didn't gasp."

"Okay."

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus, Ron, Pansy, Harry, Hermione…

But then Hermione said, "I don't gasp, Lavender. Same reason."

"Okay."

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus, Ron, Pansy, Harry, Hermione, Parvati (whew, okay) and I gasped.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf. Don't open it! Bwah-hah-hah!"

So then Derrick said, "Who's out there?!"

So then a voice said, "It's Moe, Larry and Curly! Who the heck do you think it is?!"

So then Derrick said, "Not the 3 stooges! They're dead!"

So then Harry said, "Not these stooges. They're in our school."

Derrick opened the door and Blaise, Draco and Seamus came in. The doors were then closed.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Um… students! Did either of you see any other students out there?"

So then Blaise said, "No but we saw the werewolf. It was… Parvati! Are you alright?!"

So then Seamus said, "Parvati, don't listen to him, blah blah blah."

So then Draco said, "Parvati, blah blah blah blah blah."

I was going to ask Derrick something but then the doors shook again as someone or some_thing_ pounded on it.

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus, Ron, Pansy, Harry, Hermione, Parvati, Blaise, Draco, Seamus and I gasped.

But then Harry said, "With this much gasping, I'm starting to run out of air."

So then that Hermione girl said, "What?! I can't hear you – we're running out of air in here."

I don't think they meant that. But then again, we were on a mountain. Maybe there was less air 1,200 feet above sea level.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "It's the werewolf. Don't open it! Bwah-hah-hah!"

So then Derrick said, "Who's out there?!"

So then a girl's voice said, "It's Maude Flanders and Bleeding Gums Murphy! Who the heck do you think it is?!"

So then Derrick said, "Not them! They're dead cartoon characters!"

So then the voice said, "So? Open the doors already – it's Hannah and Dean!"

So then Ron said, "Deanerator?!"

So then another voice outside said, "I told you not to call me that!"

Derrick opened the door and Hannah and Dean came in. The doors were then closed.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Hannah, Dean! Did either of you see any other students out there?"

So then Dean said, "No but we saw the werewolf. Or at least what we thought was the werewolf."

So then Hannah said, "I can't believe I let myself get caught up in that."

So then Harry said, "Hey."

So then Hannah said, "Hey."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Hey."

So then Dean said, "Hey."

I envied them. They could have a real dialog and not have it be just fashion-stuff.

But then the doors shook again as someone or some_thing_ pounded on it.

So then Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus, Ron, Pansy, Harry, Hermione, Parvati, Blaise, Draco, Seamus, Hannah, Dean and I gasped.

So then Derrick said, "Who's out there?!"

So then a girl's voice said, "It's Princess Grace and Mother Teresa! Who the heck do you think it is?!"

So then Harry said, "This is getting stupid." She then walked to the door without waiting for the correct password and simply opened it up.

There stood Susan and Padma. Whew. Susan was alive. The thought of having to re-inventory my accessories was making me a little panicked.

So then that Hermione-girl walked outside and yelled, "Yo! Everyone shake a leg and get up to this barn before the Great Evil Pumpkin gets you! Chop, chop! Move it or lose it!"

So then Harry said, "I still say you'd make a great drill sergeant. Think of it as your next career move."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "What? And give up the chance to go into a foreign country like Canada or Vermont and miss out on the chance to shoot roadsigns? I think not."

I heard rustling and feet running. Soon enough the last of the missing students were inside the barn. We shut the doors as whatever made the howling was still outside. I wondered where that Hermione-girl had heard of the Great Evil Pumpkin. I'd only heard of the Great Pumpkin. More than likely it was his evil twin brother. They're like that.

So then Harry said, "Okay, people, let's get one thing straight. There's no such thing as a werewolf."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "What about this life insurance seller here? How do you account for him?"

So then Harry said, "He may be crude, loud, has a sweaty smell…"

"Eeewwww."

So then Padma said, "Eeewwww."

So then Susan said, "Eeewwww."

So then Parvati said, "Eeewwww."

So then Hannah said, "Eeewwww."

So then Dean said, "Eeewwww."

So then Blaise said, "Eeewwww."

So then Draco said, "Eeewwww."

So then Seamus said, "Eeewwww."

So then Neville said, "Eeewwww."

So then Andrea said, "Eeewwww."

So then That Hermione-girl said, "Eeewwww."

So then Pansy said, "Eeewwww."

So then Ron said, "Eeewwww."

So then Nameless Kid 1 said, "Eeewwww."

So then Nameless Kid 2 said, "Eeewwww."

So then Nameless Kid 3 said, "Eeewwww."

So then Nameless Kid 4 said, "Eeewwww."

So then Nameless Kid 5 said, "Eeewwww."

So then Harry said, "… and sell life insurance…"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Eeeekkkk!"

So then Harry said, "… but that isn't a crime. Despite what some others might say, right Padma?"

So then Padma said, "Um, okay. But could we talk about this later? I'm involved in, like, a **real** fashion emergency now." Dramatic sigh. "I broke another nail."

After everyone came into the barn we found out that none of us wanted to go back outside until the howling stopped. I thought we'd just sit there and hopefully not have to listen to Mr. Lockhart try to cheer us up. It was not a good thing when he tried to do that. Fortunately Ron thought to bring along his disco ball and stereo. And since Wild Albus had a flashlight, Dean and Hannah started playing tunes while Wild Albus held up the glitter ball and flashed his flashlight towards it.

You could feel the relaxation in the air. It was almost like being in school during study hall when the teachers weren't around to keep you quiet. I noticed that Hermione-girl and Harry decided to take a nap on the straw in the back. And Lockhart had finally passed out so he wasn't so rude anymore.

Everything was going okay. Susan and Parvati were consoling Padma over her broken nails and leaving me alone. That was good. I didn't like it when they asked me questions that made my brain hurt. Hannah and Dean came up to Derrick and me.

So then Hannah said, "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did and threw rocks at you earlier."

So then Dean said, "I can't believe I fell for all that werewolf stuff either. I feel foolish."

So then Derrick said, "No problem. Your aim was off so not many of them actually hit."

Then the doors shook again as something pounded on it.

So then an awakened Mr. Lockhart, Derrick, Wild Albus, Ron, Pansy, Harry, Hermione, Parvati, Blaise, Draco, Seamus, Hannah, Dean, Padma (minus three nails), Susan, Neville, Andrea, five other nameless kids and I gasped.

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Oh, um… heh-heh. Um. Don't panic, students. I think Harry was right earlier. There's no such thing as a werewolf. We've all been letting our imaginations get the better of us. Ron, go open the door will you?"

So then Ron said, "But what about the were…"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Ron! A werewolf is a supernatural being. And we all know there's no such thing as a supernatural being."

So then Harry said, "Unless you count zombies. They like to eat brains."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Um… heh-heh. What a kidder you are, Harry. Ron, open the door."

Ron opened the door all the way. Illuminated in the full moonlight above was Ms. McGonagall. Her head was back on where it should have been. It didn't make it look any less a fashion-violation though.

So then Ron said, "It's Ms. McGonagall! She's come back from the dead to kill us and eat our brains! She's a zombie!!!"

So then Harry said, "He's making it too damn easy, Hermione. I can't even bring myself to say it."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "I can. If that's true, Ron, then you don't have anything to worry about."

So then Harry said, "Thanks, Hermione. No straight line should go unanswered."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "No problemo, Harry. You sure hit the nail on that setup."

So then Harry said, "Thanks. I peeked. Like shooting fish in a barrel."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Still with the stupid fish I see."

So then Harry said, "I left my book of metaphors at home."

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Ms. McGonagall! You're here!"

So then Hannah said, "More to the point, you're alive."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "What?"

So then Pansy said, "But what happened to you, Ms. McGonagall? My Ronnie said you lost your head and stuff."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Hey, she actually got it right."

So then Harry said, "For once."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "I remember marching after young Neville…"

So then Pansy said, "Who?"

So then Neville said, "Me!"

So then Pansy said, "Oh."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "…when I apparently tripped over some small dead animal that had been recently ripped apart. From what I could gather, I must've flipped when I fell forward into a bush as only my head was out of the bush when I woke up. The fall also must've knocked me out. Didn't anyone come looking for me?"

So then Mr. Lockhart said, "Um, yes. Ron went looking for you and said that your head was laying next to your body."

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Well, of course it was."

So then Ron said, "About 5 feet away from the rest of your body, you zombie you! Man, we're all gonna die!"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "What?! Where does he get this nonsense from anyway?!"

So then Harry said, "Does anyone really know what goes on in Ron's mind?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Point taken, Mr. Potter. Once I woke up I headed towards Wild Albus' and heard noise coming from this barn. And now after seeing all this tomfoolery, I want you to break it up and head for the star gazing rendezvous site so we can continue with our star gazing field trip."

So then Derrick said, "I take it this wouldn't be a good time to go over your individual life insurance needs?"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "Mr.… Whatever your name is… I…"

So then Harry said, "Or do you think you two should go over the school's needs once word of this little debacle gets out to public light?"

So then that Hermione-girl said, "And lawsuits begin…"

So then Ms. McGonagall said, "… rotten little… People! Carry on shindigging You! Let's talk… grumble… insurance!"

While Derrick went to talk with Ms. McGonagall, I went to talk to Harry. "It wasn't very nice of you to scare all those people on the bus and on the trail like you did, you know."

So then Harry said, "I enjoyed it."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Have you ever scared anyone, Lavender?"

"Me? No."

So then that Hermione-girl said, "Then don't knock it until you've tried it."

And that was pretty much how the night ended.

No one died. No one was hurt, except Mr. Lockhart and maybe Letch, I mean, Neville.

I got my "B" on the assignment. Yay, me!

The party went on for another hour until it became apparent it was ready to end anyway since Wild Albus' flashlight was fading out and no one likes to dance in the dark without glitter light. The doors were opened and we went outside to head to the bus at Wild Albus'. Ms. McGonagall was still haggling over some point or other with my Derrick. The evening was getting cooler but not yet cold. It was enjoyable to go down a mountain instead of up on. On occasion I would look up and see the stars. They were pretty. Kind of like a really expensive pearl necklace that broke and the pearls were all over the place. You just wanted to reach up and grab one.

I think we would have all enjoyed the rest of the evening star gazing.

But then the mosquitoes started feasting.

And that was soooooo wrong.

**EPILOG:**

It turned out the critter doing the howling was Wild Albus' dog which had gotten loose the day previous. Since Wild Albus had about 9 pooches he didn't notice one was missing.

Padma went home, started her homework, stopped working on it, and then read Beauty iz Skin Deep.

Parvati went home, started her homework, finished it, and then read something non-Beauty related.

Susan went home, started her homework, did most of it, and then read Beauty iz Skin Deep.

Harry went home and did all of his homework. Then he watched TV.

That Hermione-girl went home and did homework. She might have finished it. I wasn't too sure on that. Then she watched TV, and got bored.

Hannah went home, did all of her homework and had her parents put her to work doing something else.

Dean went home, did all of his homework, worked out, watched TV and tried to call Hannah but she was unavailable doing her parent's chores.

Ron went home, didn't bother doing his homework, instead rested all day Saturday so he could go to a party that weekend where he proceeded to get drunk. It was one of his duties as the QB. Or so I heard.

Pansy went home but then disappeared for a few days only to show up in school Monday with no explanation as to where she'd been.

Blaise went home and did some of his homework but then pulled out a Gameboy and played games the rest of the time.

Draco went home and did most of his homework but then pulled out an Atari and played some really old games.

Seamus went home and did all of his homework, and then pulled out some comic books and read.

Neville went home and took multiple baths to get rid of the Army Ants still crawling on his skin.

The other five nameless kids went home and did other nameless things. I don't think they read Beauty magazines.

Mr. Lockhart went to the hospital but since he had an HMO they sent him home until he could come back on Monday during regular business hours. At home, his "Sybil" (whoever that was) came by and snapped his arm back in its socket since it wasn't broken but simply dislocated.

Ms. McGonagall bought some insurance.

And me? Well… I went out on a date with a very nice guy. Or werewolf. Whatever. If he was a werewolf it was unlikely he would kill his own girlfriend and if he were just a regular guy he still had cute eyes and a nice voice. And most importantly – I didn't look fat when I was with him.

The End (1) 

**A/N: (1)** Okay, okay, I admit it. I recycled a story I'd written for my Daria series and used it here. I figured it couldn't hurt since no one read that anyway, and hey, it was a fun story to write. And it allowed me to get this chapter done sooner than if I'd just groped along looking for something new to write. That I'm leaving for the next chapter. I don't have any plans to recycle any more stories, so no fear. All future endeavors will be fresh and new. But do keep one thing in mind: a stand-alone story like this one will happen again within this overall story. I'm not even going to say how it happens, other than it will tie in some loose events, and get the story moving again.


	9. Chapter 8: Christmas Holiday

Author's Notes (a quick comment here, yeah: that's it, that's the ticket)

When I last posted a chapter, I included a stand-alone story, which was intended as a silly little bit of humor. Even though it wasn't strictly HP, I thought it would provoke a laugh or two. Imagine my surprise when the reviews started coming in flaming me left and right. You'd have thought I just kicked your favorite pet. As one might imagine this put me off writing the next chapter for a bit. The good reviews that eventually followed helped out (Thank You to all that liked the last chapter and said so – I really do appreciate it), and I started doing detailed drafts of all the scenes for this chapter.

But as with all good intentions, my writing got bogged down with kids, Christmas, putting up decorations, and the death of a family friend. At long last it was the new year and I had to return to work. On my breaks and at lunch I would take time to write even if it was just a little bit. January 3, 2008 I was working at my desk when I got a call to come to an H/R office. Entering, I was told to sit while the H/R person closed the door (never a good sign in my opinion). My manager (a true grade-A jerk who'd been at that position for less than a year and who had admitted to my face that he had absolutely no idea what it was that I did) was also there. Together, they informed me that the 13 years I'd worked for the company were appreciated but I was still being laid off. Too bad, so sad, buh-bye. I shouldn't have been surprised as that company has been shrinking for the past 7 years (they had gone from 500 employees in 2001 to just under 150 in 2008). This was the 14th layoff and I don't think they are done yet.

As I was unexpectedly unemployed, I began focusing all my time finding a new job. Sorry, but writing was a hobby that paid zilch, nada, bumpkiss. I had a wife and two children to think of first. Therefore, no writing time devoted. Luck was on my side and a week later I was offered a new job as a software tester. Even better, I was earning 20 percent more than my last job with the aforementioned grade-A jerk.

So I started work and with any new job it involved a lot of training. Again, this delayed my writing. So here it is months later and this chapter is finally coming out. I realize it has taken quite some time and I can't guarantee anything quicker for the next chapter. However, the good news is that I have a beta, Alan (aka: Aealket) who is helping me and may even become a co-writer of this tale if I can bend his arm a little. Maybe get this out a little bit faster. If you want to review his work and send him notes of encouragement, take a look at his stories at:

http: / www. fanfiction. Net / s / 3978568 / 1 / Mr Lovegood Thinks

http: / www. fanfiction. Net / s / 4090131 / 1 / Mrs Lovegood Remembers

Anyway, on with the show!

**Chapter 8: Christmas Holiday – Year 01**

**December 22nd, London, Harrod's**

It was a cold December day but Harry was excited to the point he was immune from the cold. And he would have been cold. His sisters had put some snow down his collar when they'd all loaded into the family car for a jaunt on the M-way. The previous evening Harry had casually mentioned that while he had managed to secure some gifts for his brother and sisters, he didn't have anything for his parents. His mother didn't seem to mind but he managed to get in some subtle puppy-dog like glances her way and she relented saying she needed to go to London anyway. Of course James had wanted to stay home but his mum had put the kibosh on that saying he needed to improve his driving skills. Harry had wanted to stay home after hearing that, but his mother had strong-armed him into agreeing to go if only to learn how to drive himself one day. They didn't call it the M-way of Death for nothing, you know.

So early the next morning the family loaded up in the 1971 VW Bug (minus its running boards because it made the car look cooler without them on). James threw it into third and floored it, killing the engine in the process. He restarted and a few jerking movements later they were off and running.

Harry wasn't of a religious type but he did find himself praying alongside his siblings that their father would get them to their destination alive. Especially after cutting off the fourth semi-truck in as many minutes.

"Dad!" Harry yelped as the car lurched violently to the right to avoid oncoming traffic.

"Yeah, son?" James grinned at the implied challenge of getting to London without an accident. This time that is.

"How did you ever get a driver's license driving like this?"

"…Harry, are we going to die?" Shelia whimpered.

"No, Shelia, we're not. I'll make sure of it," Harry reassured his sister.

"License?" James wondered aloud. "You need a license to drive?"

"Yes!" Rose answered. "And lessons wouldn't hurt either!"

**#**

It took awhile, but eventually they were in London, near Hyde Park. And on their way to Harrod's. Once safely parked and the keys taken away from his father, Harry quietly told his mother he needed some time alone to buy some presents. Figuring he still needed something for her (or a far less probability: James), she told him where they would meet when he was done in an hour, no more. Understood, young man? He understood and got moving.

Harry was quickly engulfed in an elusive search for that oh-so-perfect gift for one of his parents. Two departments later he stopped dead in his tracks. Not because he'd seen something he was looking for, but because he encountered something he hadn't expected. Or, more specifically, someone. Several someones.

Ahead of him were four very prim and proper people. Well, they thought they were prim and proper. But really they were not that prim and proper at all. Two adults and two children, of which one of the kids was obviously a friend of the family as he didn't look anything like the others.

Harry watched the foursome break off, with the father handing his big son some cash before heading back off with the mother. The bigger (well, rounder anyway) boy, roughly Harry's age, then proceeded with the smaller boy to the market on the lower floor and nick some candy, stuffing a few pieces into his mouth. Harry followed discreetly, wanting to know what Dudley Dursley and his friend Piers were up to.

Harry thought back to a time a reality ago when he was younger and had to go with the Dursley's to the fancy store. It was Christmas. An enjoyable time of the year for most. Harry hadn't enjoyed Christmas as a child the first time around. Not because the Dursleys hadn't believed in the holiday – for they did; up to a point. They enjoyed the time off. They enjoyed watching the Christmas parades and shows. They enjoyed spending time with family.

They didn't consider Harry part of the family so left him out of virtually everything. The one time they had included him in something, they'd had no choice. He was to go with Dudley and hold anything he was told to and when Dud had all the toys he wanted, they were to find his parents and they'd see what to get him.

Harry had been relegated to playing the part of a pack mule. He was 7 years old.

But hey, at least he wasn't locked up with only spiders for company.

So off they went. Harry and Dudly would head for the toy department but Dudley would get sidetracked and next thing Harry knew, they were surrounded by mounds and mounds of candy. Boxed candy. Bagged candy. Individual candy. Square candy. Round candy. Small candy. Big candy.

"Candy," Dudley drooled.

Harry'd had a bad feeling about what was going to happen and sure enough, he'd been right.

"Here, Harry," Dudley shoved two bags filled with colorful chocolates into Harry's hands.

"I can't eat there – I can't even pay for these," Harry had mentioned.

Dudley cuffed him upside the head. "They're for me, dummy. Put them in your pocket and don't let anyone see."

"That's stealing."

"No duh. Now do it. Or else." Usually Dudley's "or else's" made Harry black and blue so he did as told. Harry was sure his uncle and aunt wouldn't like this and wouldn't pay for them later.

Over the course of the next 20 minutes, Harry stuffed his coat pockets, down his pants, and inside his voluminous shirt three large boxes of chocolate-covered nuts, five bags of assorted hard candies, two dozen individually wrapped marshmallow eggs (two of which melted in an embarrassing location and later chaffed), and four tins of Christmas biscuits. Dudley on the other hand picked up a small robot toy from a display stand and held it in his hands to show his parents what he wanted.

Dudley motioned for Harry to follow him. Dudley had what he wanted Harry figured. Shuffling behind him, Harry made his way out of the department. Or would have had a large hand not come down on his shoulder, impeding his progress to egress.

"Right. Where do you think yuir goin', you little ragamuffin?" the surly and burly security guard said to a nervous Harry.

"Um, that way. With my cousin."

"What did you do now, Harry?" Dudley automatically put in.

The security guard looked at the obvious differences between the two boys. One was dressed in fine clothes and was subsequently relegated to a fine boy status. The other, well, was in little more than rags and oversized clothes he'd probably nicked from someone else. The security guard was certain he'd nabbed the right perpetrator.

"He's nicked some candies with no intention of payin' for them, right?"

"Pay with what? I don't have any money."

"Harry, you didn't," Dudley quickly shifted any blame from himself.

"So this is yuir cousin?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid I didn't know he was doing anything. Not that I'm surprised. My father says he's always doing things like that."

"Oh he does, does he? And just where are your parents?" he asked Harry.

"They died when I was little."

"That's no excuse for stealing. You. Where are your parents?"

Dudley pointed in a general direction and the security guard "escorted" both of them off to find the responsible adults.

Roughly five minutes later, far too long in Harry's eyes with all the other people in the store in their nice clothes looking down on him and tutting and tsking at what Harry knew was his appearance, they found Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

"What's going on?" Vernon asked nervously.

The security guard grabbed Harry by the scruff of his collar. "It seems your nephew has been stealing candy and even putting a few items in your son's coat while he wasn't looking, sir."

"Oh he was, was he?"

Harry learned an important lesson that night. No matter how innocent you were, as long as you looked the part of a vagrant, society would treat you like one and no one would believe anything you said. Especially if your fat cousin with the bulging pants and the couple of goodies he'd nicked on his own that trickled out from the cuffs that were then kicked under a table looked better off than you. Dud did the crime but Harry paid the fine. Or more accurately, he paid the time in the closet for the next few days with no time out for eating. The chamber pot had really gotten rancid that time.

So it was no surprise now that Harry smiled and looked at his watch, deciding he had enough time. He then came up from behind the rounder boy (who had stuffed a chocolate-covered cherry into his mouth) and said, "Why, hello there, Duddykins. How are you today other than stuffing your mouth? No, no, don't turn around. Wouldn't want you or your friend Piers to make a scene with filching sweets now would we?"

"Who are you?" came a nervous voice.

"No one of consequence."

"What do you want?" said Piers.

"Your cash, tubby. Or I rat you out to the store detectives."

"Go ahead, they won't find anything. I haven't stolen anything."

"Then how do you explain all the candy in your pockets, or the crystal doo-dads in Piers' pockets?"

"How do you…" Piers started.

"I've been watching you. Now hand it over, fatty."

"My dad will hear…"

"Yeah, yeah, Vernon will most certainly hear of it and you know what, he won't do anything."

Piers said, "Laughs on you, then. We don't have any money."

Harry feigned surprise. "You don't? Oh well. Guess I'll have to get it out of you another way. Here, stand still."

Dudley was understandably nervous when the other boy pulled his coat up a bit on the backside. "What are you… ouch! Blankity blank-blank! That bloody well hurts you cad!"

"Atomic wedgies tend to do that, fatty. Next time have some cash. You too, ratty."

"You can't call me that."

"You're right. I apologize for calling you ratty. Let me shake your hand."

"Fine, but that's… ouch! Blankity blank-blank! That really does hurt!"

"Get lost, both of you. Run back to your mama." And with that, Harry slid away from the two boys, back around another isle and then into shadow to watch what they did.

Soon Dudley and Piers walked out of the men's room. They were still adjusting their belts after de-wedgie-ing themselves.

"I can't believe that kid fell for it," Piers laughed.

"I can. He didn't sound too smart to me. I'd at least have made him turn out his pockets if he said he didn't have any money. Stupid git."

"Just like you did to Brenda Schumaker last week, right Dudley?"

"Just like," Dudley agreed. "C'mon, let's go get a few more things before meeting mum and dad."

"You got any more room in your coat? Mine's about full," Piers patted a special pocket on the inside of his coat where a few of the store's items now resided.

"Nah. It's packed. Let's buy a couple things so we can get a bag and make it all look respectable."

As they walked past, Harry latched onto their shadows and walked in their "shoes". As he walked, a shadowy arm carefully removed the 30 pounds Dudley had in his front pocket and the 10 pounds (all in coins) from Piers' pocket. This process was helped along by a stopover of the boys at a perfume table where they commented (loudly to each other) on the smelly stuff they wouldn't be buying their mothers, no siree, even if it was expensive.

Harry took that as a challenge and while their eyes were turned to another stand, he managed to cast an illusion over his shadow hand to make it look a little more colorful and fatter than normal. Then, the hand coming out from "under" the coat made its way to a nearby bottle of perfume which it then slowly dragged back to the cover of the coat to be stored in the inside pocket that Dudley liked so much.

Luck was with Harry. The two boys hadn't seen anything. The same couldn't be said for the store clerk who noticed the "theft" (and how that boy managed to get his hand out of his sleeve so fast in order to get that bottle she'd never know). Still, she knew what to do in a situation like this. She'd been trained on it just last week.

As Piers and Dudley made to leave that department, a beefy hand clamped on Dudley's shoulder. "You going to pay for those things in your coat?" said the gruff voice.

"I have no idea what you mean," Dudley stammered.

"Uh-huh. Turn out your pockets. Especially all the ones in your coat."

"You don't have the right to put a hand on me. Don't you know who I am?"

"You're just another young punk to me, kid. Now turn out your pockets."

"But I don't have anything!"

"He really doesn't," Piers tried to save his friend.

"Uh-huh. Turn out your pockets. Now."

Whimpering, Dudley nervously turned out his pockets on this coat. "See? Nothing there."

"Uh-huh. Now turn out the pocket on the inside of your coat, kid."

"How do you…"

"Give this old geezer some credit, why don't you. I've seen this trick more than one other time."

Hands shaking, Dudley turned out the pocket on the inside of his coat and put six things on the table, including a bottle of expensive perfume.

"Hey, how'd that get there? I didn't put it there!" Dudley exclaimed looking at the perfume.

"Uh-huh. They all say that. Now you going to buy these things or did you think you could just walk out with them?"

Dudley reaches for his money but quickly realizes it is gone. He panics again. "My money's gone. I've been robbed."

Fed up with the stories he was getting, the security guard said, "Right, then. You're coming with me to store lockup. We'll get the bobbies involved with this."

"But I didn't do anything!" Dudley cried out.

"Yeah, yeah," gruffed out the burly guard. "They all say that. Save it for the judge."

"Where's my mom and dad?"

"Yeah, where's his mum and dad?" Piers put in.

"Save it, you. You're coming with me as well. We'll just see what you've got in your pockets, eh?"

"Sorry, Dudley, I've got to go!" Piers' attempt to run off was cut short when the same meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder that held Dudley.

"Piers! Mum, dad! Help!"

Harry smiled at the trouble they got into, calmly bought a tie for his dad, knowing he wouldn't know what to do with it which was a good prank in itself, and then donated the money he mugged from Dudley into a charity kettle in front of the store. He wasn't the least concerned about the funds he'd acquired from his portly cousin: if memory served, Dudley tended to bully it out of the neighborhood kids with Piers along for the ride.

Harry hoped they enjoyed the ride he just set them on. He'd have to ask them sometime.

Harry gave his mind some mental workout and thought back to everyone who'd been atomic wedgie'd. He had one more person to give that gift to before the school year was out. Someone special.

**(((o)))**

**December 23rd, Potter Manor**

After the younger children were down for the night, Lily and James found their four older children in the study doing what came naturally to them: they were playing games, and in Harry's case, he was writing. Lily smiled at her little genius. He was definitely taking after her side of the family.

Sitting down beside him on the sofa, Lily asked, "What are you working on, sweetie?"

Concentration broken (but the train of thought not totally gone), Harry looked up and said a little absently, "Oh, it's a list of interesting things I've found at Hogwarts. I'm cross-referencing them with Hogwarts: A History to get an idea of how the castle actually works and when updates are made, as well as by whom or what."

"I'm sure the Headmasters have made improvements over the centuries," she suggested.

"I know they have, mum. I've found a couple references to the moving staircases. But sometimes the castle does things on its own. And I'd like to know if there's any pattern it's following or not."

His father sat down across from the two of them so he could keep a better eye on Leon, Shelia and Rose as they 'played' a game of chess. If the kids started randomly throwing moves in just for the heck of it (again), then the pieces would start refusing to play. And it was a pain to convince them to take up positions afterwards. The last time the kids did something like that, the pieces had started muttering something about a union.

"Tell us about your friends, Harry," his father suggested while watching Rose nudge a pawn to take out another pawn (who might have shouted something rude to her – he wasn't sure, but she was blushing for some reason).

"Yes, honey, tell us about your friends," his mother encouraged.

"Um, okay. Well first there's Hermione Granger. She's my best friend in school. She's smart, like you mum. And best of all, her parents torture people for a living."

"They don't," Lily gasped.

"You can get a job doing that?" James said.

"I'm kidding," Harry grinned. "They're dentists."

Lily gasped again. "They do torture people."

"They do?"

"She's kidding, dad. Mostly. Anyway I'm also friends with Pam Turner, Parvati and Padma Patil, Lavender Brown, Blaise Zabini, Susan Bones, Jamie Summers, Dora Tonks…"

"Sirius' cousin?"

"They're related?" Harry faked surprise. "Well, I guess that explains why she's so clumsy."

"I'm going to tell him you said that," James nudged his son.

"Yeah, yeah, bring it on," Harry nudged back.

"Do you have any friends who are boys?" Lily wondered.

"Sure. There's Edward… and, um… George?"

"Is that a question or a fact?" Lily wanted to know.

"Jeez, mum," Harry said in askew annoyance (meaning he didn't mean it if you know what I mean), "what is this? The Spanish Inquisition?"

"NOBODY EXPECTS the Spanish Inquisition!" boomed a voice.

"Dad, you okay?" Leon asked.

"Sorry, son, but I've always loved that line. It was on the first program your mum had me watch on her telly. Those muggles really knew how to entertain."

"You two are clowning around so much now," Lily pointed to both James and Harry. "You are getting closer all the time. Pretty soon, you won't need your mother."

"Mum, I'll always need you," Harry said seriously.

"He sure will," James agreed. "After all, he's going to need some advice from you in managing the harem he's building."

"Dad! I'm not building a harem!"

"Whatever you say, son. Whatever you say."

"Anyway you look at it, Harry, it sounds like you've made some friends at school," Lily commented.

"Now that you mention it, yeah, there are a lot of neat kids there that I'm friends with. I'm friendly with a lot of upper year kids as well."

"Now the big question, sweetie. I read it in your letters, but I wanted to hear it from you. What's your overall impression of Hogwarts?" Lily asked.

Harry's brother and sisters immediately turned their attention to Harry and their parents.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably from everyone's stare. What should he say? Should he tell them the truth? He wasn't all that familiar with his family yet. Should he tell his mum how much he hated Snape for always trying to single him out and that he had to put Snape back into his place repeatedly? Or should he...

"Harry... is something wrong?" his mother was concerned. He hadn't frowned this much even when he'd burned the scones yesterday

Harry snapped out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Yes well, you didn't answer my question." Lily pointed out.

"Well... I really don't like Professor Snape." Here Lily threw James a look. Harry caught the byplay between the two adults. "But ever since the cook-off competition he's been minding his tongue. Now he mostly ignores me," Harry avoided his parents' eyes.

Harry continued.

"I'm friends with or have at least spoken to most all the first years; and there are only a few that I've met and try to have nothing to do with them."

"Hey, Harry," Leon interrupted as his bishop had his head crunched in. "Did you meet Neville Longbottom? You know, the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Unfortunately yes," Harry admitted.

"Unfortunately? Why unfortunately?" Rose said.

"If you get a chance to meet him, don't bother. He's stuck-up, arrogant, and vindictive. He'd hurt you as soon as help you. And he'd only help you in order to hurt you."

"He doesn't sound very nice," Rose supplied.

"He's not. And he's surrounded by a bunch of sycophants, mostly led by Ron Weasley."

"Arthur's boy?" James asked, surprised.

"He's a grade-A jerk, dad."

"That's odd," James muttered. "I always thought Arthur raised his kids better than that."

"How do you know the Weasley's, dad?" Harry said.

"Oh, Arthur Weasley is head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department. I've known him for years. He's always very helpful and seems to dote on his children. Seems to love muggles and their inventions a bit too much, but other than that he's okay in my book," James smiled.

"You sure Neville's like that? I've read quite a bit about him. He sounds like a good guy."

"Spin doctors," Harry said simply.

"What're they?" Leon wanted to know.

"Later, Leon," Shelia pushed that sidetrack aside. "Harry, what's your real impression of Neville Longbottom?"

Harry snorted at the abrupt question. Trust Shelia to get to the point.

"The Boy-Who-Lived is an arrogant, self-centered, and regularly unpleasant person! He thinks very highly of himself in spite of being ignorant in class. He dislikes me because I won't bow and scrape before him. He has also mentioned some disagreement between his parents and ours." Harry gave his parents a glance before he continued. "All I can say for sure is that he is not as popular at Hogwarts as he expected he would be. Maybe he was popular at the start of the year, but most of the kids have started avoiding him and his clique of stupid followers whenever possible. Mr. Boy-Who-Lived has accused me of stealing the respect and glory he feels should be his just because he is breathing," Harry said angrily. Harry did not want to steal the fool's spotlight, but he was not going to stand by and watch the prat bully and abuse the others around him. Harry had never been good at being discreet; direct action tended to get better results but is also brought a share of the spotlight

His sisters were giving him odd looks while Leon was looking angry. Leon rarely lost his temper; he was always the cool headed one in the family.

"You telling me he dislikes mom and dad?" Leon asked angrily.

Harry nodded.

Before Leon could say anything his twin sisters spoke. "Are you sure Harry? I mean, is he really arrogant and self-centered? Are you sure?" Rose said giving his brother a look. She had always wanted to meet the famous Boy-Who-Lived. She always thought of him as a kind of prince.

Harry nodded with a dark look. "Keep your distance from him, Rose. He's not a pleasant chap at all."

"Bro... I haven't always trusted your judgment, but if what you say is true and you don't like him, then I don't like him either," Shelia said icily. She loved her brother Harry. He was everything to her, especially since he had started being kind to the family. That and he made her whatever she wanted for breakfast (if only he'd started doing that years before he left for Hogwarts though). Hearing that Neville Longbottom hated her family and her bother because of something her parents did made her angry. Her parents were great people. Everyone in Godric's Hollow respected her family, and she was proud to be Potter. But the thought of the Longbottoms teaching their child to detest her family annoyed her enough that she voiced the question.

"Mum, dad, why do the Longbottom's hate us?" Shelia asked.

Lily and James shared another glance.

"Well sweetie," Lily said looking uncomfortable but after that start, she and James just looked a bit lost, and silence followed.

Harry decided to break the ice.

"Look mum, I need to have some kind of a clue as to why Neville Longbottom hates us. He's hated me the moment we stepped into the castle. Somehow I managed to impress him at school, and now he thinks that by just saying he is a friend all that hate will go away. But if the Boy-Who-Lived becomes an enemy of our family, it wouldn't look good at the Ministry. Dad, if you tell me you think we're too young to understand, I'll accept your decision without an argument, however, I want to remind you that, Lily, Rose, and Leon will be attending Hogwarts in a few years _while_ Neville is still there. I don't want them to go through this kind of stuff at Hogwarts. The Malfoy's are bad enough, but I hate having two high and mighty Pure-blood families as enemies to ours," Harry said calmly.

James and Lily stared at their son in awe. Since when did he become so mature? Did Hogwarts change him that much?

Shelia and Rose were staring at each other. It made sense. When they attended Hogwarts next year, they would need to be wary of any family threat. As much as they had always admired The Boy- Who- Lived at a young age, they loved family and family always goes first on the list.

Leon didn't say anything out loud. Whatever his brother said, Leon would listen and stand by him. His brother was speaking with the same assurance Leon and come to recognize in his parents.

Sylvia and Lily didn't know what to say. They didn't understand what was going on but it seemed to have stopped all of the fun that they had been enjoying just a moment ago.

"Give me a moment with your mother." Their father said getting up and followed Lily to the living room to talk.

Rose and Shelia got up ready to eaves drop, but Harry's voice stopped them.

"No. Whatever they're talking about, it has to be serious. If they think we are too young to hear about it we have to accept their decision. They're our parents; we need to trust their judgment," Harry said calmly. Inwardly he was desperate to know as well. Hadn't they been comrades in the Order of the Phoenix in the past? It was not jealousy, Harry's parents did not seek that kind of attention, and what could the Boy-Who-Lived parent's want from the Potters? What was going on?

After a short time a somber Lily and James Potter came back into the room.

"Ok, your mother and I have agreed to tell you," James said sternly. It was rare seeing their father look stern; it didn't look right on his usual cheerful face.

They all looked at their father apprehensively.

"Honey," Lily hesitated. "Before your sisters were born, Voldemort's power was on the rise. It was a different time back then. Nobody knew who to trust. We were no different than the Longbottoms in that regard. What set us apart from most people, though, was that we all belonged an organization that fought him and his Death Eaters."

"You worked for the ministry with dad?" Leon said.

"Yes… no… I'm not saying this right. Suffice to say the Longbottoms and the Potters fought on the same side against the Death Eaters. Then, a proph… something happened that required us and the Longbottoms to go into hiding. We both went into seclusion under separate Fidelius charms."

"What's that?" asked Rose.

Harry sighed and tried to explain. "Rose, a Fidelius will hide a location magically. It hides it so well that only a person called a Secret Keeper knows where that location is. And only the Secret Keeper can tell others how to find that location. And that knowledge cannot be taken from the Secret Keeper; it can only be shared willingly.

"Harry's right. It hid us in plain sight but required someone we knew and trusted to be the secret keeper. We chose Sirius. Oh, he tried to get out of it, even going so far as to suggest we use Peter Pettigrew…"

"That rat," James hissed.

"Yes, dear. Anyway, Sirius suggested that he was the obvious choice and people would naturally come after him. This way if we used another person as the Secret Keeper, no one would ever know what that was. Especially if we let it be known Sirius was our secret keeper as a bit of misdirection. That way he'd stake the heat while the other wizard stayed hidden in the background."

"So what happened?" said Harry. This was where the timeline diverged! It had to be!

"Pettigrew had been a friend of your father's since they first started school. He, Sirius and your father became animagi to keep Remus company on his… uh… monthly visits."

"What's an animagi?" Leon put in.

Harry again tried to explain to his younger brother. "Animagi is plural for an Animagus. Several people who are Animagus are known as animagi. An Animagus is a witch or wizard that can perform a wandless transfiguration into an animal. Each Animagus can change into only one type of animal, and generally they have to have some kind of affinity for that animal. One of the professors at Hogwarts is an Animagus, she can turn into a cat.

James was a little leery at how easy that answer came to Harry. There was just something not right about being able to answer that question the way Harry did. He needed to talk to Lily some more about this.

"Yes, Harry," Lily continued, "that's correct. As it turns out, you father's form is that of a stag. Sirius' form is that of a dog. Pettigrew's form is that of a rat. What is still unknown to this day is how our decisions and attitudes shape what form a wizard takes as an Animagus. My work with the ministry did uncover there is some correlation."

"Huh?" Leon looked to Harry for a translation from adult speak.

"Some one with noble character turns into a noble animal like a cat, dog or perhaps a hawk. Someone with no morals may turn into a rat. They change into what their magic envisions them to be."

Harry's mother continued, "And in this case, I was uneasy with a wizard who could turn into a rat. I had no personal problems with the man – he was cordial enough all the time, but I had a nagging feeling was just in the back of my head. And this was before I researched all about Animagi for the Department of Mysteries. I felt better trusting Uncle Sirius over Pettigrew."

"And considering Lily was pregnant at the time, it would have been unwise of me to countermand any of her decisions."

"Huh?" Leon again.

"Later," Harry supplied. "When you're older and ready to start dating."

"Bleh! Me date girls!? Bleh!"

"So we selected your Uncle Sirius to be our Secret Keeper." Lily smiled at the disgusted face still on her youngest son. "At that time we were good friends with the Longbottom's. Harry and Neville had played together several times that summer. They, like us, were to go under a Fidelius. However, they were having trouble deciding on a secret keeper. Since they had no one they really trusted, and we knew nothing bad about Pettigrew, we introduced him to the Longbottom's, and they ended up using Pettigrew as their Secret Keeper."

"I regret ever meeting that rat," James grimaced.

"Yes, dear. Pettigrew's morals were those of a rat and he joined the Death Eater ranks. Whether intentionally or unintentionally…"

"Huh?"

Harry helped his struggling brother out. "We don't know if joined the Death Eaters willingly, or if he was forced into joining their ranks."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Yes, thank you, sweetie. Pettigrew, for all the Gryffindor he was, became a Death Eater and within weeks of going into hiding, Voldemort attacked Longbottom manor. He crashed through the wards and stormed the house. Then, he killed an auror and then Neville's gram, Augusta. He then focused his energies on Neville and was defeated in turn. No one knows why."

James picked the story up, "We caught Pettigrew a couple days later and threw him in Azkaban. He's still there apparently going insane."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer rat."

James stared at his son; he recognized the anger and malice in Harry's eyes. He felt the same, but where could Harry's feelings have come from? This was the first time Harry had heard the sordid tale. Harry should not have that kind of reaction so quickly. Yet another puzzle surrounding his son.

"November 1st, 1981 was an emotional day for our family," Lily went on. "Your Uncle Sirius showed up and gave us the news about the attack and apparent defeat of Voldemort. We showed up at Longbottom manor and I tried to console Frank and Alice but they wouldn't have anything to do with us. They said it was our fault that Augusta was dead. They threw us out."

"We tried contacting them over the days, weeks, and months that followed but they weren't interested in talking with us," James admitted. "Finally a solicitor contacted us and gave us a cease and desist order. Then he told us to be thankful the Longbottom's weren't suing us for aiding and abetting in a wrongful death."

"We knew the friendship we'd had before was now gone. Over the years it really became apparent when the Longbottom's would publicly rebuke anything we did or said. These days we stay mostly out of their way."

"You shouldn't have to do that, dad," Shelia protested.

"Too right, dad. You have as much right to be anywhere they are as well," Rose put in.

"Both of you princesses are right," James agreed. "We shouldn't have to leave a building or a park just because they showed up. But we didn't like it when they began to involve you kids in their petty squabbles. If we had to leave in deference to them, then so be it. You kids mean more to us than they do.

"Any way you look at it, the Longbottom's refused to take any ownership of their decision to use Pettigrew. Their excuse was Pettigrew was never their friend, and that since we supposedly knew him best, we should have known he was a traitor. He had us fooled along with everyone else. I always knew he was a follower and not a leader, but had no idea he'd turn into a true rat.

"No matter who tried to explain this to them, the Longbottom's kept aiming their accusations towards us. In the long run, our relationship with them didn't matter. And since Neville became famous for surviving a killing curse, the Longbottom family became famous as well. Which led to the ministry sucking up to them to keep the good press coming."

"James, that's enough," Lily scolded.

"Yes, dear."

Lily looked at her children's expressions. Shelia and Rose had murderous looks while Leon wasn't sure if should be angry or sad that it could have been their family that was attacked by Voldemort. James noted that his eldest son looked expressionless. He wasn't even sure anything registered with him until he saw his son's lips frown for a moment before his neutral expression went back into place.

The fact that his son could hide his emotions worried him. He wasn't sure why, but it did.

After the others had gone to bed, Harry sat in the living room thinking over what his parents had said.

_So... that was the reason why Neville hated his family. They didn't want others to know that it was partly their fault that they were attacked when they were the ones who chose the Secret Keeper. Why was none of this mention in my universe? Did the Longbottom's have a secret keeper? Were they in Fidelus? But why were they attacked after Voldemort's downfall in my dimension? There are so many possibilities. It all goes back to that bastard Wormtail._

Once a traitor always a traitor...

Harry got up and went to the kitchen to get some tea to settle his seething disposition. He saw his mother at the kitchen table, pouring tea for herself. She looked up and instantly got another cup that she started to fill.

"Thinking hard honey?" His mother asked.

Harry looked at her and nodded while accepting the cup of tea she gave him. Harry was silent while putting his head on her shoulder while she had an arm around him.

"Tell me more about your friends, honey," Lily said softly breaking the silence.

Harry smiled and spoke. "Hermione's a muggleborn witch. She's very smart and reminds me of you. Ack!" Harry gasped when his mother poke him stiffly.

"You told me in your letter that she was pretty, smart, kind, and loving like me. Do you really think I'm all of those?" his mother questioned.

Harry snorted to her amusement. "Mum… Words can't describe you. You're everything," Harry said.

She smiled at her son's words and kissed the top of his head. "You always say the right thing, sweetie."

Harry was silent for a moment; his mind came to focus on yet another thing he could blame on Riddle for him losing. Shelia and Rose were 10 while he was 11. That meant his original mother was pregnant when she was killed.

Bloody psycho.

**(((o)))**

James entered the room to find his wife getting ready for bed. "James? What is it? You've been acting tense for hours."

"It's… ah, it's probably nothing."

"Tell me," she prompted.

"It's… nothing really. Just a feeling."

"Tell me or you'll be eating cold cereal tomorrow instead of a warm breakfast I planned on making."

Bypassing the threat, James thought for a moment and then let her know what was on his mind. She always was smarter than him so maybe she could help put to rest some nagging feelings. "It's Harry, Lily."

"What about him?"

"He's not the same boy we had at the beginning of last summer. Surely you can see that."

"Who's Shirley?"

"Oh, ha-ha. That wasn't funny the last time you used it."

Lily giggled slightly. "Just trying to get you to relax, James. Whatever you're thinking, I'm sure you're blowing it out of proportion like always. Harry's your son. This is the same boy you have always known. He loves you. He loves us all. You can tell it in the way he moves and what he does. How many other little boys do you know would go out of their way to learn to cook just so they could make their family happy?"

"That's just it, Lily. When did he learn all this? If it were a process of years, why didn't we see him practice at all? When did he become so proficient? It seems to have happened overnight. Like his sudden interest in books and learning."

"You're jealous," Lily nodded in understanding.

"What? No, I'm not. You're right. Harry is a good boy. But he's not the same Harry we knew. Where is that boy that did average in school? How did this boy suddenly go to Hogwarts and become the first apprentice there in over 90 years, as well as the youngest apprentice ever? He went from average to a superstar overnight. How?"

"Oh, James. You may not know it but that sometimes happens in the muggle world. Albert Einstein did horrible in school…"

"Who?"

"Theory of Relativity? No? Someone who knew a lot of math, James. Anyway, he did horrible in school and people thought him an idiot. He went on to become one of the greatest theorists the world ever knew."

"And you think Harry is like this Albert fellow?"

"Partially. Not the same genius category, but no slouch with knowledge at all. And definitely not one to skip responsibilities. You remember what Minerva said in her last letter?"

"Yeah. That was something. I would've loved to see him take down those Slytherins."

As his parents began to talk more about things they were going to do the next day, Harry took that opportunity to shadow out of there and back to his room after first stopping by Leon's room and rearranging all the furniture (heh, let him figure out how Harry did that without waking him, especially now that his bed was stuck on the wall with a 90-degree spell put on Leon up until he got up and moved away from his bed by a minimum distance of 1 meter).

His dad was suspicious. He needed to allay those concerns, and soon. He'd have to figure something out. But he also knew he'd have to come clean about who he was. Eventually.

**(((o)))**

**December 24****th****, Longbottom Manor (evening)**

"Evening, Mr. Longbottom," a gruff guard nodded as Neville passed the interior courtyard.

"Evening," Neville instinctively replied, the years of having manners pounded into his head coming to play. He would have said the man's name had he remembered it. Names were difficult for him to remember. They always had been. Not sure why. Neville didn't really care. And apparently neither did most of the others he spoke to regularly. Or at least they never admonished him when he got their names wrong. Well except that Weale, or Weasley or Weasle or something. One thing was certain; he had learned over the years was that if he simply did not say their names at all, there were a lot fewer conflicts.

Neville approached the side entrance to the house. The door opened for him automatically but he was sure he noticed a house-elf nearby. He wasn't concerned. Especially since another guard was stationed nearby to keep the door under surveillance.

Inside, the warmth of the fire in the kitchen helped remove the night's chill. He'd only been gone for about 20 minutes – just a quick walk around part of the property to clear his thoughts and get ready for bed. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Or at least he found it loud as it echoed in the kitchen.

Tick, tick, tick.

He looked up. It was 9:32 (thereabouts – who knew how accurate those 300 year old clocks were anyway). The kitchen was clean. "Gusty?"

"Yes, Master Nevvie?" the older of the manor's house elves replied immediately.

"Have my parents sent any word yet? Or any other messages come in?"

"No, Master Nevvie. They's not sent any word back from party they's gone to."

"Oh." Neville's expression didn't change as he got the news. It wasn't as if he were expecting anything else. Every year since he could remember they were invited to attend a party on Christmas Eve. And they always promised to let him know when they were coming home, or if they saw St. Nick on the way, or something like that. Or to check up on him.

Neville's feet carried him to the next room which was packed with lots of presents under a large decorated pine tree. "You did a good job decorating the tree, Gusty," Neville acknowledged.

"Oh, Master Nevvie, Windy dids most of it herself. I's only surpervised after Mistress instructed us to do it."

"Yeah," Neville muttered, "better not let Neville help you – he might break something."

"Master?"

"Nothing, Gusty. You remember where my parents went tonight?"

"Mister Minister's."

_Great. Fudge's place again. They wouldn't be back until late. Very late._

Sigh.

Tick, tick, tick.

"When did they say to surprise me with a fake Santa?"

"…er…"

"They didn't even tell you to try to keep me entertained with a fake Santa like last year?" Not that it hadn't been a fiasco then.

"No, Master Nevvie. Gusty's sorry."

Tick, tick, tick.

"Did they say when I could open my presents at least?"

"No, Master Nevvie."

"Don't worry, Gusty. Since they didn't tell you to stop me, I guess now's as good a time as any to start opening gifts. Would you bring me that stack over there?"

"Sure thing, Master Nevvie."

Moments later, Neville Longbottom, defeater of Voldemort, and so on, sat in the Great Room and began opening presents from friends, admirers, associates, suck-ups, and fans.

Other than a cheery house-elf, he did so alone.

Gusty called out for Windy to show up and take down names of who sent what so they could send thank-yous later.

Rrrrrriiiiiippppp, a present's paper tears, echoing in the room. Neville stops tearing and looked around. He had everything he ever wanted, and more really. He knew that.

So why did he feel so uncomfortable this time?

Sigh.

Tick, tick, tick.

Neville wondered what the Weales or Weasleys or Weasles… what Ron was doing.

**(((o)))**

**December 24th, Weasley Burrow (morning)**

It was an unusual Weasley Christmas, even by their standards, Molly knew. Bill was home and they were all packing, getting ready to head to Romania and see her second oldest, Charlie.

They would be leaving in the early morning by portkey, but if she allowed her children to pack then, who knows what they'd forget. No, it was better they pack now. She saw one of her sons in the hallway.

"George!"

"Yeah, mum?"

"Get packed. Now. And get your brother packed. Now."

"Mum, we're working on it."

"You used that line on me before, mister. You aren't packed. Instead, you are goofing off. Probably looking for a way to prank your brother."

"Mum, you wound me."

"Not as bad as I can tan your hide, mister. Got that? Now here. Take this…"

"A letter? But mum, you don't need to give me a letter, though I am touched by the sincerity of the gesture."

"I didn't. It came by owl a few minutes ago. Now go get packed. We're leaving soon."

George quickly opened the letter, read the signature and then made for his room.

"Fred."

"What is it, twin of mine?"

"I've been thinking."

"I agree then. Ron does need to learn some better manners."

"Not that. I mean, not yet. Yes, I was thinking that, but I mean, not right now. We can get him later and blame it on Charlie. No, I was thinking what we're going to do about our reputations once we get back to school."

"Reputations? Well, I guess I can ask Katie and you can ask Angelina…"

"Not that reputation you twit. It's Potter. We just got a note from him."

"What did he say?" Fred asked, suddenly slightly more interested in the conversation than he had been.

"It says: 'Tag – You're It.' What does that mean?"

"George. Listen to me. Whatever you do, don't move. Don't move at all."

"What is it, Fred?"

"I'll tell you in a minute. Just don't move. Mother!"

"Are you packed yet? Do I need to do everything for you two boys?" came a muffled voice from the other side of their door.

"Mum! Come quick. George is in trouble."

"You two are always in trou… okay, which girl are you seeing?"

"Not that kind of trouble, mum! There's a bug on George!"

That stopped her from climbing any more steps. "You can always swat it off, you know."

"Not this one. It's huge! And it's on the back of his head, its snout buried inside his ear."

"Oh, my," she said as she stepped into their room. "You two never clean this room. It only gets cleaned when I manage to get the door open when you're in school. Then I have to do all the cleaning. Would it kill either of you to clean your room once in awhile?"

"Mum! The bug in George's ear?!"

"What bug?" George said, still not moving just in case.

"That bu… George, did you move?"

"Nope. Can't hear a bug either."

"That's because it was stuck in your ear, dear," his mum said as she looked at both of his ears. "Ah, here it is." She pulled a tiny mosquito from his ear and squished it between her fingers. "Okay, Fred, crisis is over. When you've calmed down, come downstairs and I'll give you a cup of cocoa to calm your nerves some more. Wouldn't want you to get the vapors before we leave on our trip," she giggled.

"Mum! I'm not crazy! I know what I saw."

"Yes, yes, a huge blood-sucking bug in your brother's ear. Yes, I have it right here. You want to see it before I throw it away? No? Okay, then calm down a little more and put on a sweater. It's cold out and I wouldn't want your heart to take any more of this weather in your condition."

"What condition?!"

"There, there, dear. Just calm down. I'll tell everyone you'll be a few minutes."

"Fred?"

"Yeah, George?"

"We've been had."

"… that cheeky Potter. Always liked that lad."

"Too true, brother of mine. Too true. What are we going to do for retaliation?"

"He's a tricky customer, that one. But it would be good for morale to get him, o brother of mine."

"True, too true."

"Let's figure that out before we get back to Hogwarts."

**#**

Ginny sat in her room unconcerned with Fred's latest prank. She was at her desk writing in her journal. A smile was stenciled on her face.

Mrs. Neville Longbottom, she wrote in her book next to the newspaper picture she'd clipped from the Prophet of Neville boarding the Hogwarts Express back in September.

Mrs. Ginny Longbottom.

Mrs. Ginny Weasley-Longbottom.

Mr. Neville Weasley.

She wondered if he was open to changing his name when they got married.

She put little hearts next to the picture.

**#**

Ron packed his clothes like he always did – pick it up, sniff it once, if it didn't reek, then throw it into the bag. It was a slow process, well, slow for him with all the sniffing he had to do, and if he could have used magic, he theorized, it would have gone a lot faster. Neater too. He never really gave much thought that he didn't know any kind of magic for packing luggage. That was immaterial to his visions of using magic whenever he wanted.

His last shirt thrown into his bag, he couldn't help but wonder how his best mate, Neville Longbottom, was doing. It sure must be nice to have everything like he does. He probably even had someone to pack his bags for him instead of having to do everything on his own like Ron.

**(((o)))**

**December 25th, Granger residence**

Christmas morning at the Granger house was far less frantic than that of the Burrow, but no less affectionate. Hermione, wearing her customary nightgown, fuzzy robe and dog-shaped slippers came downstairs and into the family room. It was quiet as she looked at the tree, lit up like normal. The presents were under the tree arranged in their usual haphazard way.

"Happy Christmas," her mother said behind her, engulfing her in a large hug. Moments later her father echoed the same sentiments and gave her a bone-crushing (okay – bruising) hug as well.

"Happy Christmas mother, father," Hermione responded.

"Presents or breakfast?"

"Dad, you know we always open presents first."

"Well, I wasn't sure if Hogwarts changed you or anything…" he started with a smile.

"Dan, quit teasing your daughter. Presents are always first."

"I'll hand them out," Hermione volunteered and shortly piles of gifts were at the feet of each occupant of the house.

"I knew there was a good reason to teach you to read," her father winked.

"Just for that crack, honey, you get to open yours last," a stern wife arched her eyebrow.

"Kidding, honey, I'm kidding."

"Yeah, yeah, dad. Here. This is from me."

Rrriiiippppp. "Oh look. I just got a book on Ye Olde Medieval Dentistry Tortuous Devices. Thanks, honey."

"You prat," Emma Granger laughingly slapped his arm. "That's a book on fixing cars."

"I'll look for a medieval dentistry book when I get back to school, dad. I'm sure it'll have something to do with leeches," Hermione smiled.

"Oh, where did this mischievous streak come from?"

"I'm sure I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"There it is again. Emma, did you just see that?"

"I sure did. Okay, honey, who are you and what did you do with our daughter?"

"Mum! I'm still me!"

"A new and improved version, maybe. Now give. Where'd that mischievous streak come from?"

Hermione blushed a bit and avoided their eyes. "Well… it kind of started with my best friend, Harry."

"The same boy in your letters?" her father asked.

"Yes. He's been helping me play a joke on this other boy who is just horrid and says a lot of mean things to everyone at school."

"Ah," Dan replied simply. "And how is your joke coming along?"

Hermione grinned. "Let's just say it's a work in progress."

"Is this the same Harry that gave you this present?" Emma said.

"Yes. He told me to open in Christmas morning."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense, dear. Open it up."

Rrriiiipppp.

Hermione's present looked like a slim version of a hinged hardened eyeglasses case. It was about five inches long, three inches wide, and one inch deep which was actually half that when the latch was opened and the two side unfolded. The words: "Pocket Galaxy" were stenciled in Harry's handwriting on the outside of the wooden cover.

Opening it, Hermione noticed the "topside" was simply a mirror. The "bottom" had some buttons and a lever. The mirror had the words: Speak N Spell enchanted into it.

"What is it, dear?" Emma asked her daughter.

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly.

You could always ask, the words flickered on the mirror.

"You can hear me?" Hermione queried.

"Obviously.

"What are you?" Hermione wanted to know.

I'm your Pocket Galaxy. My benefits include more than just picking out constellations. Controls below the mirror can either direct your viewing around the night sky or you can zoom into an area by a factor of 1000. Controls are also voice activated. Planets in this solar system should be visible but what do I know – Harry only enchanted me – it's not like he tested me out or anything, the slacker.

Press the blue center button for the immersion experience. That is when I darken the room and project all stars I can in the desired viewing area into the room. It certainly makes finding constellations easier. Feel free to zoom in to any planet you want. You want to see Mount Olympus? Zap the button. Be part of the big red dot on Jupiter? Then press it, press it, press it! With me, you never need a telescope again.

"Interactive instructions?" Emma's mouth hung open.

You got it in one, baby. You busy later?

"Cheeky little thing," Dan muttered.

And proud of it.

Hermione looked at the present for a few moments after the description ended. Her parents were looking over her shoulder. Harry had given her a study tool. Practical. She was moved. "Oh, my," she gaped.

"Ditto," her mum put in. "And I'm busy with my husband later, you cheeky little device."

Pity.

**(((o)))**

**December 25th, Potter Manor**

Harry knew this Christmas was going to be a moment to remember. He knew his friends were going to love their Christmas presents. It had taken him a few weeks to get the star-tracking spell to work right whenever the Portable Galaxy was opened. He was just happy that with it Padma especially could study stars whenever she wanted instead of waiting for night as she had to currently. It had been a conversation they'd had last November that spurred on this gift when she'd mentioned she didn't like going to her favorite class because in the middle of the night she was always tired. And to think, it had been Uncle Nick who had explained how the spell in the Great Hall had worked that spurred this effort. Of course, if it became popular with the rest of the kids, he might have to consider licensing it and putting it into production. Merlin knows he'd need some funds to do the rest of what he wanted to do in school before he graduated.

Harry had spent an entire month making the spells for the Pocket Galaxy. He wanted it to be special, and not just some run-of-the mill slapped-together spell work. And since Padma loved Astronomy, Harry knew she'd would love it. He was pretty sure Hermione would love it too, mainly due to it making that coursework easier and leaving her ample time to get more work done. Besides, she'd always had a problem with telescopes in his last life because her night vision was terrible. How she managed to get full marks, Harry had no idea. The others, well, Harry wasn't sure if they were into it or not, but he suspected they'd like it nonetheless.

Harry was excited. He had gotten lots of presents for his family – some he even created himself. It was going to be the first Christmas with his family that he could remember. Sleep came for him (eventually) late at night. If he hadn't spent some of his power subduing a tornado in Australia he doubted he'd even have gotten any rest.

"Harry! Merry Christmas!" Harry woke up Christmas morning with his littlest sister sitting on his stomach. Harry smiled at Lily and Sylvia. Little Lily jumped up and down on his stomach again (Harry "uurfed") and then leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Sylvia giggled. "It's Christmas!"

Harry smiled and hugged Lily and then grabbed Sylvia into a hug as well. He murmured, "Merry Christmas, munchkins," in between tickles while still waking up.

"Come on Harry, get up! Let's go down and open presents!" Shelia shouted while lifting Little Lily off of him who protested. Rose was dragging him out of bed with Sylvia in toe.

Once downstairs, they found Leon who had already separated the gifts into individual piles was anxiously staring at the stack of gifts with his name on them. His parents were waiting for all of them in their morning fuzzy robes. His mother had on fashionable pink fuzzy slippers. They all soon joined in opening presents with Leon.

Harry smiled. His mother had given him several potions books that were for 4th, 5th, and 6th years. He could tell she wanted him to be the scholar for the family; definitely not what James wanted. James wanted Harry to be a Professional Quidditch Player (or an Auror if need be) so chipped in with his sisters and got him new Quidditch gear. Leon got him a book on 'Legendary Seeker's in the League.'

As for the presents that Harry got for his family, Harry gave the twins dozens of small boxes of candies, cookies, pastries and sandwiches that should last them till summer which cheered the girls immensely. Adult Lily's lips thinned and she tired to confiscate the goodies, but the girls quickly took their loot upstairs and hid it, giggling all the while. Harry brought Leon a pet Owl (named Blockhead), for which he thanked Harry profusely. Sylvia was given a magical baby rabbit that could rotate through a multitude of different colors at will. Hagrid had found it in the forbidden forest after its parents were killed. Hagrid had offered it to him since it wasn't up to his level of "charming" viciousness like a certain three-headed killer dog he doted on. Harry had accepted it at the time knowing that Sylvia would adore a cute bunny as a Christmas present. True enough, she loved her present to bits and hugged him, squeezed him and called him George. Even his sisters and parents had to admit it was pretty cute, until it peed all over his father.

As for Little Lily, Harry knew she loved Dragons. Harry made her a stuffed dragon and charmed it to be semi-active. It would nibble (sort of), chew on her fingers or ear with its stuffed cotton teeth (not breaking skin), it could float up to 1-meter in the air, and blow a few red sparks out of its mouth. Mum and his sisters immediately fell in love with the stuffed dragon. Harry patted himself on the back – it was a pretty cool gift for a child. Little Lily cried out in joy and kissed her brother multiple times, holding the small baby stuffed dragon like it was her best friend. Little Lily (and the dragon) stayed in Harry's lap for the rest of the present opening.

As for his parents, Harry bought his mum a few notebooks he put together on Charms that he found after sifting through the Room of Unused Paper Crap – some notes even from Riddle. He didn't note who the authors of the charms and other spells were, all he told her was that it was a work in progress. Harry let his dad puzzle over the tie for a few moments. Even getting his mom to actually tie it around his neck; before presenting his father with a wand holster. And not just any holster either. Harry had charmed it so that only James could see it, and that it was immune from summoning spells and had active countermeasures on it as well. If anyone who touched it held malice toward the holder, they received a powerful shock. His father was happy with the gift and as he'd never heard of a holster like this had asked where he got it. Harry just gave him a mysterious smile and said it was a secret. It aggravated his father big time because he knew the Aurors at the Ministry could really use holsters like this one.

After breakfast, Sirius, Amy and their kids came over. Remus, holding the youngest, took a comfortable spot on the couch. Harry's mum and dad started handing out presents for everyone, including the Black children. They in turn handed gifts to everyone in the Potter clan.

Harry was only halfway surprised when Jasmine approached and presented him a present. Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that all the adults were watching them. Pervs.

Opening the present, Harry found a hand knitted sweater. It had a Gryffin on the front of it, and it had green eyes. Harry thanked her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek (which incited a few 'awws' from the adults and a Bleh from Leon and caused Jasmine to blush).

"Jasmine, I have a present for you; wait here," Harry said running upstairs.

As Harry walked briskly back to his room, his thoughts ran overtime with what to get the beautiful girl. He didn't really have a present for her; he'd been trying to think of something for her for the longest time. Okay, okay, for all of two days when he suddenly remembered that he needed to get something for her when a rouge memory of her giving him presents from when he was seven on up popped into his head. He couldn't fault his counterpart for not doing anything all those years – the poor little boy had been smitten by the pretty girl and her charm. Harry wasn't ensorcelled by that magic but he still wanted to get her something. He could and did fault his counterpart for not doing anything all those years. Harry felt he should get her something. She deserved it for putting up with his counterpart.

Back in his room inspiration struck. With a flick or his wrist, his wand was out; Harry conjured a large pillow and then transfigured it into a stuffed white Phoenix like his younger sister Lily's stuffed dragon. A few more hocus pocus movements with his wand had the Phoenix becoming lifelike. One quick murmured incantation later it was enchanted to float anywhere from 2-3 meters high at random intervals and to also act like a real Phoenix. Well, mostly. He added a little extra shadow magic to it for a certain amount of fun. The shadows would eventually fall away, but while it lasted, it was certainly going to make someone's life interesting.

Lastly, he imbued it to sing peaceful tunes, or barring anything it couldn't latch onto from the ether, then grab some of the Wizarding Wireless' receptions (like that sorting hat). All said and told it took Harry roughly five minutes to create this present.

Not having had any real experience wrapping presents from his previous life or even this life, Harry did a quick flick of his wand and the baby Phoenix lurched into a brown bag that was quickly twined up. Satisfied, Harry grabbed the present and headed back to the family room where people were sure to wonder where he'd gotten off to.

His family was smiling at him. Some (Rose, Shelia and Leon based on previous years experience) thought he really didn't have one and was trying to find something, but Harry was going to prove them wrong.

"Here you go Jasmine. I hope you like it," Harry smiled warmly.

"Thank you Harry," she said shyly.

Jasmine blushed and accepted it, quickly tearing into the brown wrapping which she noted looked very reminiscent of the local grocery store's bags.

Moments later she gasped in surprise when a small fluffy and fuzzy Phoenix half the size of Fawkes flew a couple feet in front of her and sang a peaceful tune. It caught everyone's attention, but mostly Sirius' when it decided to fly over his head and deposit some shadowy-looking poop on his noggin before going back to Jasmine and sing another song (which, oddly enough, was a muzak version of a Weird Sister diddy). Little Lily liked it too, but she much preferred her pet dragon. Strangely enough, the moment her pet dragon came in close contact with the phoenix, they flew towards each other and started fighting.

"Oops," Harry said as the two toys duked it out fluffy style.

Harry's father waved his wand and the Phoenix and Dragon separated, but they were giving each other some cute glares, like little puppies trying to mark their territories.

"Oh Harry, it's a great gift! I love it!" Jasmine said happily while giving him another hug and a quick peck on the cheek while holding onto her Phoenix who sang another song, this one previously performed by Led Zeppelin.

Harry smiled.

"I knew you would. I know you told me you wanted to see a real Phoenix, but this'll have to do," Harry said hugging the younger girl back.

She let go and immediately began to coo at her Phoenix who enjoyed her warm hug.

Lily and Amy who were giggling then extended their hands out to their husbands, palm up. Grumbling, the two men reached into some pockets and pulled out some cash for their bet-winning wives. By the looks of it, James didn't mind losing that bet, but Sirius was going to have words with his daughter and that bloody toy.

**(((o)))**

Later that Christmas night, after dinner was over and the kids were in bed, Harry left a secret Christmas gift for Remus who was sleeping over that night in his "nanny" digs. When Remus entered his guess room later that night he found a present for him on his bed with a note on top of it.

_Dear Remus,_

_Take this potion; it will help you tame your werewolf form during the full moon. If you want, you can go have it analyzed before you drink it. The instructions on when you take the potion are written on the bottom of the parchment. I will be sending you two vials every full moon if you desire to take the potion. Attached is an ingredient list in case you wish to have these claims verified. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, and all that._

_Cheers Moony!_

Remus was shocked. Opening the present, he found two vials of some weird looking potion. Reading the instructions, it told him drink one vial before every transformation and that the potion was called 'Wolfsbane.'

Remus gave a disbelieving look. He dared not get his hopes up. But one thing was for certain. He would be talking to Sirius and James about this tomorrow. He had a suspicion about who it came from, but best not to burst that bubble just yet. That wasn't the Marauder way of getting someone to incriminate themselves.

**(((o)))**

**December 26****th****, Diagon Alley (Done)**

The next day the Potters, Blacks, and nanny Lupin went to Diagon Alley on a Boxing Day shopping trip. After discussing travel plans with the rest of the elders, James took his oldest son by the shoulder and said, "C'mon, Harry. Time to hit Gringotts and the family vault. Who knows what junk you can find?"

"Junk?" Harry replied with a raised eyebrow.

"You might call it heirlooms, but mostly it's junk. Still, we might find a book or two like you wanted."

"Excellent. Sounds like fun. Let's go," Harry said excitedly. He'd always wanted to go to his family vault, but couldn't in his old life as it was warded nine ways from Sunday and used some voce activation password that only his parents knew and hadn't gotten around to passing down to him before their untimely death. The Goblins didn't know it (or at least said they didn't) but did offer to reset the spells on the vault so he could enter. Unfortunately that took the better part of 4 years and Harry would have been 21 before he could enter the Heirloom Vault.

When they entered Gringrotts, his father asked a nearby Goblin if they could kindly bring them to the Potter vault. "Hey, Barfbreath, you up to taking us to our vault?"

"Sure, James, you ugly human. Hey, anyone ever tell you that you're looking particularly trollish today?"

"Just you, Stinky." They grinned at one another, and then shook hands. "Barfbreath, this is my son, Harry."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, young Mr. Potter."

"Um, thank you. Should I insult you like my dad did?"

Barfbreath replied, "Only if you want me to insult you back."

"I can live with that," Harry immediately responded seriously.

The goblin looked at James and said, "I like your son, James. Real smart. You sure he's yours?"

"Shut it, you," James muttered with a slight grin.

After a fun, fast, and slightly dangerous cart ride that both dad and son enjoyed, they were finally at vault #3. Out of the cart, Harry's father put his hand on the vault gate and spoke out loud: "The Heirs of Gryffindor have returned. Wauka, wauka, wauka."

Slowly the vault door opened.

What was inside blinded him. Harry was amazed. The Potter Vault, #214, was pretty large and had mounds of gold, silver and other currencies and precious jewels littering the floor. Or at least it did when he last visited it when he turned 17 a year ago. But this family heirloom vault was huge! It was like the size of the Great Hall of Hogwarts! There were mounds of sparkly rocks everywhere. At the end of the Vault there were magical items and weapons placed neatly on shelves which were placed next to a huge shelf of books and scrolls.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts when his father spoke. "Remember those words son, only a Potter could hear what I said as a password here, and only a Potter by blood can enter this vault. Your mother cannot enter here. You, Leon, and your sisters can. Anyone else that enters this vault without the Potter blood will suffer a most painful death."

"What kind of painful death?"

"Rumor has it they'll have to listen to 'It's A Small World' over and over until their brains melt. Or it might have something to do with jell-o wrestling. I'm not really sure and the scrolls were a bit vague on it."

"You yanking my chain dad?"

"When isn't he?" Barfbreath inserted. "He knows all the protection will do is stun the intruder."

"That's good news I guess," Harry said.

"Absolutely, young Mr. Potter. Then we get the take care of the intruder and feed him to one of the dragons to satiate their blood lust."

"You yanking my chain?"

"Would I do that?"

"In a heartbeat," Harry pointed out.

"He's really smart, James. You could not have been with Lily when he was conceived."

"Shut it, you."

"Dragons, huh? I guess that serves them right for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And for trying to steal our junk."

"That's exactly what ugly here said when I told him that two decades ago after his first year at Hogwarts," Barfbreath admitted.

"Like father, like son," James crowed.

"Adopted son, right?"

"Shut it, you."

Harry nodded.

James allowed his son to enter first and was relieved to see him go in without being stunned. It was still hard to believe his son had changed so much since just last summer. He had thought about using some mind magicks to enter his son's thoughts, but was unsure if that would be enough. This test, the Gryffindor family vault, was the ultimate test. He knew it looked beyond more than just thoughts and blood – it relied on something even more stringent: character. Not to say there weren't some bad Potter eggs over the last millennium, and those it noted were not allowed to enter. Sometimes a century might go by before a Potter again entered the vault.

James was thankful that this was really his son, Harry. And glad that his son had a good character about him. True, the boy was a little odd at times, but he guessed he was going to have to get used to that seeing as he was a genius and all that. Maybe he should get him tested or… nah, let him stay at Hogwarts. No sense pushing him out in the real world just yet.

"Why don't you go ahead and explore the Vault for a few minutes, then we'll go back to the lobby, I need to go talk to Barfbreath for a minute. Oh, and, don't take any gold out of this vault! You're not of age!"

Harry nodded and waved to his father in acknowledgement. He wasn't planning on taking anything anyway. After all, there were other ways to supplement his income if need be. If the Dudley from the other day was the same as "his" Dudders, then tubby had a stash of cash.

Harry explored the vault, seeing a few things that caught his interest. Some books he was interested in checking out from the Potter Library (so to speak). An interesting shield that he'd love to do a history run on, and then something else caught his eye. It was next to a couple crystal decanters filled with a swirling mist that looked as if they were some memories. What he saw he knew he wanted.

Badly.

Located just down the way from a couple suits of armor and a ratty piece of cloth similar to a dementor cloak, Harry saw several small baby hand sized orbs that looked exactly like the Magical Suppressor Nicholas Flamel found for him years ago. Harry walked straight towards the Suppressor Orb and picked it up.

The moment he touched it, his own suppressor let out a musical chime while the orb in his hand unexpectedly began glowing red before returning to its clear view moments later. _That was unusual,_ Harry thought, _it usually glowed blue, but instead it glowed red._ Harry tried to recall Uncle Nick's lesson on Magical Suppressors. It was only a couple years ago that Harry and Uncle Nick spoke about it, so he should remember it… shouldn't he? Ah, there was that memory.

_**Magical Suppressors**__, by Nicholas Flamel. You listening, Harry? Put that magazine down. I saw that, mister. What? Yes, you can bold your words by certain inflections in your voice. __**Magical Suppressors.**__ See? Now stop that. We're getting off topic._

_Magical Suppressors were created to keep apowerful witch or wizard's magical prowess both hidden as well as contained lest it consume them before their bodies were mature enough to control it. Who created them originally is still unknown, but the Mages of PaleMo'on began using them wholesale on their members after a decree from Queen Freya was issued to slaughter all powerful witches and wizards the world over who could be a threat against the Magicians of Atlantis (see Magicians of Atlantis in __Atlantis: A History__ of the Tragic Kingdom)._

_The Mages used all the Suppressors they could locate or create to hide their members. Made to hide all of a wizard's power not even the Witch Queen Freya's army of Aura readers were able to discover a wizard or witches power if they held a suppressor. However, rumor had it that not all suppressors worked as expected. Some hid powers while others hid only part of a holder's powers. Those that hid power did so at a phenomenal cost: the magic lengthened lives to the point where the holders outlived their loved ones._

_There are three types of Magical Suppressors:_

_-The White Suppressor Orb- Known as the Ordinary Magic Suppressor. It was made to hide a wizard or witch's magical power to make others think they are naught but a non-magical muggle. They were primarily made for those witches and wizards who decided to leave the Wizarding World and live amongst Muggles._

_-The Blue Suppressor Orb- Known as a Standard Magical Suppressor. The Standard Magical Suppressor hides a person's true magical signature and makes others think they are an average-power level wizard or witch. _

_-The Red Suppressor Orb- Known as the Reserve Magical Suppressor. The Reserve Suppressor not only hides a person's magical power and makes others think they are an average wizard and witch, but it uses that person's reserves to hold in check, hide, and control power that could otherwise consume an average wizard. The power continues to build up in a wizard and to offset its burnout effect, the magic begins to subtly change the wizard into a vessel that can use the magic vs. the wizard changing the magic for personal use as is the case of most witches and wizards. These individuals are dangerous not only to themselves, but until they learn control, they are dangerous to others around them as accidental magic can occur late into their teens until control has begun to be initiated. It is unclear who is controlling whom, though. Is the magic controlling the wizard or the wizard controlling the magic? _

_Harry, it is unknown how long this suppressor needs to stay in a body for control to exert itself. It is also unknown how much magic this suppressor can actually suppress as none of these suppressors were ever found by Pernelle, myself, nor any of our associates over the centuries. We think it can hold back seven times a wizard's magical strength before it starts to strain. From what rumors we found on the other orbs, and the few we found, no matter which suppressor you have, if you are strong enough you need to release the excess somehow. The stronger you are, the more you need to release it on the blue or white orbs. The red orb would probably allow you to go long periods of time before you need to burp it out. And no, I never found a red orb. Best I can tell is that only a few were created and those that had it took it to ground with them. Perhaps it was given to a child who forgot about it and it never left their body before they died. I'm not sure what would happen to the orb when they died. It might fall out of their hand, or maybe it's still there in their tomb or grave._

_Just do Pernelle and me a favor, okay? Use the blue orb and stay under the Order's as well as Voldy's notice. Neither one has to know how powerful you really are. Then when they corner you, which one of the megalomaniacs eventually will, take them out. No, not to dinner you little stinker. Yes, I know you were joking. But I'm serious about this. Don't sacrifice yourself. You mean too much to us._

Harry looked at the orb in his hand. _This is it! This is what Nicholas and I have been looking for! All this time... it was inside my Family vault! But… how did it get there? Did a Potter come across it? Or did Gryffindor?_ Harry looked again at the bottles of memories near the orb. _Could these tell me why…?_

Harry put both bottles of memories in his backpack. He'd need a pensieve to view them he knew, and since they weren't readily available to just about everybody, he'd have to see if he could use the headmaster's when he got back to school. Maybe use the excuse he found them in the school. Nah, he'd have to be a little more creative than that. The Room of Requirement! That's it! He'd get the room to conjure one up and view these memories there. Harry patted himself on the back for some quick thinking.

Harry quickly scanned the bookshelf and found a couple interesting tomes that he also stashed in his bag. Then he went back to the orb sitting so innocently. He could feel his magic bubbling in excitement of something new. Something that would help him remain incognito. The magic wanted it. He wanted it.

Harry looked over his shoulder to make sure his father wasn't watching. He had to do this quick or his father would notice he wasn't the Harry his dad thought he was. And that was something he didn't want yet. Not yet.

Closing his eyes, Harry focused, and whispered, "I Harry James Potter, release the Blue Suppressor Orb. C'mon, out, out, out!"

A pale blue sphere of light rose out of Harry's left hand. Sweating, Harry willed it to hurry up, but it still took over five seconds to show and totally remove itself from his appendage. Once free from him, Harry's magic suddenly increased what seemed seven doubles and an invisible magical spike wave shot out in all directions from him. Ultimately it went 60 kilometers out before petering away to nothingness, but it was still felt even by muggles who thought it was more of a déjà vu sensation.

Knowing he had now less time than before, Harry immediately took the Red Suppressor and murmured, "I Harry James Potter now hold the Red Suppressor Orb... Possess!"

Immediately the Red Suppressor Orb vanished by his hand and into his Magical core leaving only the Blue Suppressor Orb in his hands.

"Harry! Harry! Where are you?!" his father shouted inside the vault which echoed all around.

Quickly Harry placed the Blue Suppressor on the pedestal where the Red one had been. Turning around, he grabbed his satchel and ran to the door of the vault, pretending like he didn't know what was going on.

"Dad! Did you feel that? What was that weird feeling?" Harry shouted in fake panic.

He immediately saw his dad who looked worried like him. Harry felt guilty hiding his power from his dad, but he knew he couldn't reveal who he was in this dimension; things would just get ugly. It wasn't time to announce who he really was. Yet.

"Yes Harry, I felt it! Did you touch anything you shouldn't have!" his father blurted out in panic.

Harry played it off by acting like he didn't know what was going on. "No! I was just looking at few artifacts and books! I promise, dad!" Harry said giving his father the look that said he wasn't lying.

His father nodded and took hold of his hand and led him out of the vault and told the Goblin, "Barfbreath, any idea where that huge power spike came from?" James asked.

Barfbreath shook his head, his eyes looking a little nervous over what he'd magically sensed. James understood that look and only training kept him from sharing the concern he felt. Whatever it was, or who it was, James knew it was something more powerful than either Voldemort or Dumbledore.

"No, I do not know, but I do think, we should return to the lobby," Barfbreath said nervously while looking around to make sure whatever made that monstrous power spike wasn't near them.

**(((o)))**

Once topside, they immediately departed to go find Lily and the rest of the family. On the way though, they saw Aurors and hit wizards swarming through Diagon Alley questioning every person they came across. James walked toward one of his fellow Aurors and tapped him on the shoulder.

Harry recognized the Auror immediately; it was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Hey King, are you all here because of that power spike?" James asked.

Kingsley turned around and nodded to one of his commanding officers. "Yes. The ministry gauges overloaded and blew up. Madam Bones and Director Dent thought it best we investigate at once in case it's related to a former Death Eater. We still don't know where it came from, however when I find out, you'll be the first to know, James," Kingsley said to James.

"Understood. Later Kingsley and Merry Christmas."

Kingsley nodded and spoke. "Merry Christmas to you too, Captain. If you're searching for Sirius and your family, they are at the Leaky Cauldron. Your wife was hysteric thinking that maybe it was supporters of You-Know-Who, experimenting with necro magic to bring him back."

James nodded grimly. If it had something to do with Voldemort, things could turn out bad.

When they entered the Leaky Cauldron, Lily immediately ran and hugged them both and whispered to James. "James! What was that huge magical spike? Did it have something to do with Voldemort?" Lily whispered.

James gave a grim look while Remus, Sirius, and Amy approached them.

"No, the Aurors are not sure yet, but they're hoping it didn't involve him. C'mon, everyone, we're leaving. I don't want to stay remaining here in case there's trouble."

Sirius, Remus, Amy, and Lily nodded. They gathered the rest of the family who looked confused and worried because all the adults in the Leaky Cauldron looked worried and fearful when they felt that blast of magic.

Harry felt bad for all the fuss he'd put everyone through. It's not like he'd gone through suppressor replacement before – honestly, he didn't know what to expect. But whatever it was, he hadn't thought the spike would happen.

**(((o)))**

**December 31st, Potter Manor, Night**

Harry stood in a forest clearing. Large pines and aspens stood guard around the square-like clearing approximately 10 meters away. He looked around. How the hell had he gotten here? he wondered. "Where the heck am I?" he asked mainly of himself (a good thing since he didn't see anyone else there).

His voice shocked him.

It wasn't squeaky or high-pitched. It sounded more normal to him than it had in months.

It sounded like his old voice.

He looked down. His old body was there once again. The last time he'd seen that was at Safire's. But that had been a memory construct, hadn't it?

He felt for his wand. Not there.

He felt for his magical core. It was there. He wasn't powerless.

"C'mon already!" Harry shouted to the sky. "Let's get the show on the road already! Last thing I knew I was sleeping so show yourself already! I want to go back to bed!"

"My, my, we certainly are cranky today aren't we?" a voice said behind him.

Harry spun and saw a teenager like himself with brown hair, a scar across his chin, and a thin build.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, keeping an eye on this stranger.

The other boy leaned down and picked up a wildflower from the forest floor. It felt like summer, but Harry knew it was winter. Confusion.

"I bid you welcome, Mr. Potter. It is good to finally be meeting you. How is life treating you these days? Enjoying your stay with your family?"

Doink. It all came crashing down in Harry's mind. "You! You're the one who brought me here from my home dimension!"

"Did you figure that out yourself or did you have some help?"

"Bite me," Harry said.

The other boy laughed at the sarcasm. "At least you have some backbone."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll find out in due time."

"Why did you bring me here?"

Raising his hands to the air, a look of delight on his face, the boy responded, "Why not?"

"Why? Because I had a life you took away!"

"Really? And what kind of life did you have anyway? Let's review. One: your Ginny is dead. Two: most of the friends you could count on are dead. Three: your godfather is dead. Four: your friends Ron and Hermione aren't as good of friends as you thought. Five: you were set to graduate and head into a world you weren't prepared for nor if what your journal was any indicator of, were you looking forward to."

"You read my journal?" Harry didn't like that.

"Hello, I moved you between dimensions. What's reading a locked journal to that? But hey, on the positive side you were loaded with the Potter fortune, the Black fortune, war reparations from Death Eater collaborators and the ministry. So… how many friends do you think that gold could have bought you?"

"Bite me."

Again, the other boy chuckled at this.

"So how long am I to remain here?" Harry snarled.

Hands folded over arms, he replied, "That's up to you, Harry."

"What kind of cryptic mumbo-jumbo is that supposed to mean? You related to the old man of Hogwarts?"

"You'll find out," the other boy winked.

"Who are you really?"

"You'll eventually find that out as well. In the meantime, go ahead and just call me Bubba. By the way, you should probably go back to bed. You'll need your rest. You've got a big day coming up from what I can see."

Harry moved forward to grab the guy but he dissipated into blackness and the scene changed as Harry woke up back in his bedroom, back in his younger body. He looked around with a start. It was a dream, just a crappy dream. But knowing how his luck has gone in the past, Harry knew it wasn't just **any** dream. It was more than that. He knew it. A warning. A foreshadow of things to come. _I bet Hermione would know what it was. Or could at least research it a bit to find out. That is, if she knew about my dimension-thingy._

He did know one thing. The next time he met Bubba he was putting him in a headlock before they started talking if only to squeeze some actual answers out of the jerk first.

Harry looked at his clock – 3:42. He still had time to get in a little more sleep before getting up and making one last breakfast for his family.

**(((o)))**

**January 2****nd****, Potter Manor, evening**

Following a tasty dinner supplied by both Remus and Harry, the two families talked and played in the Potter home. They'd been at it for about 30 minutes when the fireplace in the family room took on a green tint and a familiar face appeared.

"Hello, James. Lily," Albus Dumbledore greeted. "Happy Christmas to you and your family."

"Dude!" James shot back with a smile. Lily slapped his arm and glared an evil eye his way. He gulped. "Sorry about that. Happy Christmas to you as well. What can we do for you?"

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind a visit from your old headmaster?"

"Certainly," Lily supplied. "Come on through."

Moments later a slightly sooty Albus Dumbledore was in the Potter home.

"Hello, Albus," Remus said gently so as to not wake the baby in his arms.

"Good evening Remus, Amy, Sirius," Dumbledore said in his cheerful voice.

Harry greeted his Headmaster. "Good evening Headmaster. Have a good Christmas?"

"Hello there Mr. Potter, yes I had a good Christmas so far and thank you for the socks you gave me. I would like to ask how you knew what I always wanted for Christmas?" Dumbledore said.

Harry made a small laugh. "Oh, I don't know Headmaster, one of the portraits hinted to me on what I should get you for Christmas," Harry lied smoothly.

"Oh, I see," Dumbledore said with his eyes twinkling madly at the gift of socks Harry Potter gave him for Christmas. "You know, that was quite an interesting tale you wrote for Muggle Studies."

"You read it?"

"Of course. Professor Bark praised it quite a bit. I'm not sure Professor Snape would agree. He would probably throw it in some flames if he could."

"Then it's probably best I didn't show it to Professor Snape then," Harry admitted.

"Albus, would you like something to eat? We have plenty of food; you should try some of Harry's cooking – it's to die for," Lily commented while James offered the Headmaster a chair.

"Why thank you, I would love to try out some of the delicious cooking that your son made," Dumbledore commented while sitting down.

The children were in awe of seeing the ancient powerful Headmaster who tried some of Harry's chocolate Tiramisu. Harry, however, wondered why the Headmaster was there. Thankfully, Mrs. Black asked the question for him.

"So Albus, what brings you here to Godric's Hollow?" Amy said.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah Mrs. Black, you know me so well. You should have been in Hogwarts instead of Salem."

Taking a sip tea, Dumbledore spoke. "Maybe we should discuss this while the children are upstairs?" Dumbledore asked.

The adults nodded.

Amy spoke kindly to the kids. "Okay you lot of ruffians, go upstairs and play. Keep the noise down or it's extra chores for you. Especially you, missy, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jasmine nodded.

"Right. Keep it down. The adults need to talk. Off you go."

The kids shrugged and left, who needed to hear the adults speak anyway? It was always about boring stuff – not fun stuff like Leon had planned.

Harry on the other hand wasn't in the same boat as the rest of the kids; he wanted to know what was going on, but Lily was yanking his pants for him to pick her up and bring her upstairs.

Harry smiled at his adorable little sister and was about to pick her up, but Dumbledore interrupted. "Ah, Harry, you can stay if you don't mind. I wish to speak with you as well."

Harry gave a puzzled look and nodded much to the protest of Little Lily who gave her oldest brother an adorable pout which made the adults laugh.

"Aww, come on Lily, we'll play a game with you upstairs okay?" Rose said to her little sister who nodded happily and clung onto her sister as she picked her up and went upstairs.

After the rest of the kids trooped out of the room, Harry sat back down at the table waiting to see what Dumbledore wanted to say.

"I'm sure you felt that enormous magic spike that was in Diagon Alley?" Dumbledore said to the people in the room.

The adults nodded. Harry was noncommittal.

"At the moment, the only thing the Aurors have been a le to determine is that it originated in Diagon Alley, possibly around Gringotts."

"Madame Bones is going to question you about this some more tomorrow, James. We know you and your son were in your family vault when the spike happened. I was wondering if one of you two noticed anything that was down by the vaults." Dumbledore looked at James who shook his head slightly.

"Not really, I was talking with Barfbreath when I felt that spike while Harry was inside the vault," James said giving a hard thought like he was trying to remember every detail that was happening.

"Harry, did you notice anything when you were down in the vault with your father?" Lily raised an eye to her son.

Harry's first thoughts were on what the heck should he say. Before he could think of anything, he felt Dumbledore try a stealthy probe of his mind. Harry smirked inwardly and gave him the old man a few false stranded thoughts as if he was caught prepared. The thoughts radiated the enjoyment he had making breakfast this morning.

"No mum, I was busy looking around the vault until I felt that strange magical wave as well. I was going to research that spike further when I got back to Hogwarts," Harry lied smoothly.

Harry was pretty sure everyone bought his story, including Dumbledore, who for some reason was going to ask the House elves to try their hands at Sugar Waffle Toast Oat-O's Flambé tomorrow.

Lily smiled at her son reassuringly. "You sound so much like me when I was back in Hogwarts," she said patting her son on the head.

Harry smiled warmly in return. For some reason he loved people saying he acted just like his mum. Thank God she hadn't gotten together with Snape when they were younger.

"Yeah, every time there's a strange occurrence, Lily is the first to investigate, and she goes to the Library first thing," James joked.

Everyone laughed except for Lily who lightly slapped her husband on the arm in mock irritation.

Harry smirked. That sounded exactly like Hermione in his old dimension.

Dumbledore chuckled at the married couple. Yes, James and Lily were great people.

"So, do you think it has anything do with the break in at Gringrotts a few months ago?" James inquired.

Dumbledore smiled. "As sharp as always, no wonder you are an Auror Captain."

Harry's father nodded in the compliment.

"Oh Albus, don't say things like that, his head is already big enough as it is," Lily commented.

James immediately sent Lily an playful hurt look in which she cooed at him and then kissed him.

The occupants in the kitchen chuckled.

"We do not know if it was or not, however... we are taking that into consideration."

"The next few minutes were comprised of some more small talk about things at Hogwarts and at the Ministry. The Remus blurted out a question catching Harry unprepared.

"So Albus, how's Harry doing at School?"

This of course got Harry's parents' attention as well as Amy and Sirius.

"Actually, Remus, that is the other reason for my visit. I was wondering if Harry is getting enough out of school. It is not every year that the Sorting Hat picks out an apprentice. And usually, the person has to request a sorting from me in private to see if they have the potential to maximize their education. A few have the right mindset, but most don't."

"And you think Harry has the right mindset? Right. Sorry about that. He's already an apprentice," said James.

"More than just an apprentice, James. He's an apprentice in every subject. And he's still a first year."

"Hello, I'm right here you know."

"My apologies, Harry. I meant no disrespect. But the point I am leaning towards is to see if you are interested in a different apprenticeship than what Hogwarts has to offer. There are others willing to take on a young apprentice like yourself."

Away from Hogwarts? Harry thought. Absolutely not. He turned back into Albus' offers of apprenticeships after a quick rundown of what would happen if he left – i.e., Quir-Riddle would gain the stone, come back to life, and more than likely wipe out a generation of kids in his wake. Ruddy bastard. While he was thinking, Dumbledore had continued speaking and was listing the people Harry might be able to approach for an apprenticeship.

"…and as a possibility, remote as it is, I could see about contacting Nicholas Flamel for an alchemy apprenticeship."

Harry had heard the names before. The three names before Uncle Nick's had been friends of Albus and definitely supporters of his little vigilante group. Harry took that to essentially mean that Albus wasn't so much interested in his education as it was a chance to have a potentially powerful wizard come under his OotP jurisdiction and guidance.

Or another way of looking at it was a way for Harry to keep from studying the dark arts on his own time. He had to give the old geezer credit for trying to sway him like this. The extra education was a sweet deal. If only it didn't come with tags attached. He wasn't sure what kind of association he had with the Flamel's, but wasn't about to contact Uncle Nick and tip his hand just yet.

"Let me think about it, headmaster," Harry offered.

Albus smiled benignly and patted Harry's knee in a grandfatherly way.

"So how else is Harry doing in school?" Lily remarked.

Dumbledore gave a bright twinkle-eyed smile and spoke, "Harry is a great role model for all years. I personally think he has the potential to be a powerful wizard in the future. From what Minerva and Filius tell me, Harry is best suited to be a 3rd or 4th year. And I suspect only that range because he is holding back. The hat is rarely wrong."

Lily and the adults gasped, they knew Harry was smart, but that smart?

Lily was the first to recover. "Minerva told me Harry was top of his class and best suited to a higher grade, but she never told me Harry was that smart!"

Dumbledore chuckled much to the annoyance of Harry. "Yes, even Severus admits that Harry has potential to be a great Potions Master in the future."

Sirius jaw dropped, he immediately blurted out. "No way! Harry is not going to be anything like Snape!"

Remus and James nodded in agreement while Lily and Amyrolled theireyes. It was common knowledge the Marauders didn't like Lily's old friend at all.

Harry only chuckled. A Potions Master? That would be the same day when he'd claim to everyone that he was Voldemort's son.

Dumbledore chuckled again and spoke. "Yes, about that, Harry I was wondering if you would be willing to take a Wizardry IQ test?"

Inwardly, Harry froze for a moment. He'd read up on them during his sixth year. If he took the test, his family would know how smart he actually was. So would anyone else since it was a public record.

But was that a bad thing? If he were in a regular year, he might be advanced from first to third or something like that. But in his case, he was an apprentice to the school in all subjects. They already knew he was smart. This would only confirm what they thought.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore answered.

"My apologies, Headmaster. I simply wanted to know why you want to test me now and not at the beginning of the term when the hat made its proclamation."

"Truthfully, Harry, I saw no reason to question the hat. And I personally still don't see a reason to question it if you must know. The reviews I've been getting from your teachers and the rest of the staff are nothing short of stellar on your part, save the reviews from Professor Quirrell who anticipates your death almost as much as Sybill. But this is a question that some on the Board of Governors are asking. They simply want to know you are familiar with the subject matter that you are tutoring other students in. To them it is a mater of responsibility and accountability."

"Another way for them to stick their noses in, eh?" Harry attempted levity.

"Too true, Mr. Potter. Do you still want to take the test? It is entirely optional but I feel I must inform you that the results will be made part of a public record even though it is highly unlikely it will ever be seen by anyone."

"Sure, I don't have a problem with it. It's not like anyone outside the Ministry even knows where those records are stored. And what with the way Fudge is running the ministry these days, I'm pretty sure those records will never see the light of day again."

"James, Lily? Are you in agreement with this? I do need your permission to perform the spell," Albus said.

"I'm sure Harry will live through it," James said seriously. "If I recall, that spell is similar to a liquid imperio that suppresses the wizard's spell casting until they have to claw their way out of an abyss using whatever magic is at their disposal, correct? Sirius, didn't they try that on you during our 6th year?"

"They tried. I didn't last more than two minutes in the hole before they cancelled the test and told me to stay with my class. I couldn't get to the next year until I took the tests."

"Very funny, dad," Harry said with a smirk. "But it just so happens I know how this test is run. Oh, and you almost had me until you mentioned Sirius. Then your left eyebrow twinges up slightly and I can tell you are trying to pull one over on me. Better luck next time."

"He's got you there, mate," Sirius told his friend.

"Coughloser!" Harry coughed into his hand while grinning at Sirius.

"Oooohh, burn," Remus chimed in.

Harry prepared himself for the test. Unlike muggle tests that required much studying and writing, and generally using things that most wizards lack – namely logic, a Magical IQ test was performed by a spell. Said spell reads a person's mind and soul which usually indicates how brilliant, powerful, and well-intended (or not) that person is. The only good thing about the IQ test, Harry considered, was that it would only work if he agreed to it. If not, the user wouldn't be able to read anything. This is why the Headmaster had to ask permission from him and his parents.

"Have at it then, Headmaster," Harry stood with his arms to his side.

Albus rose himself and, after making sure it was still okay with his parents, ran the quick incantation. A light appeared on the end of his wand and he used it to touch Harry's forehead.

Ding.

The wand-light shut off and Albus pocketed the wand. "There, all done."

"When can we expect the results?" James asked.

"I'm sure an owl… never mind, here it is now. Lily, may I?" he motioned to the still-closed window.

"Of course," she agreed.

He opened the window and accepted the letter tied to the owl. Then sent the owl back on its way, closing the window again.

"Ah, here we go. My, this is impressive, Mr. Potter."

"What is, Albus?" Remus said.

"It appears the hat was more right than any of us thought. Apparently Harry here can graduate from Hogwarts any time he wants. He has O levels in all NEWTS for every course he is taking."

"How is that poss…" Lily started, and stopped. She looked at her son. "Harry, have you been reading ahead?"

"Just a little," he replied sheepishly.

"How far ahead?" she wanted to know.

"Um… I got bored over the summer so I went through the library and picked up all the books on advanced subjects I could find. I read those."

"What about the basic books?" Sirius asked.

"Boring. I could do those in my sleep."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter," Albus continued, "you are in a unique position. You can leave anytime you wish. Do you desire to gain additional knowledge? I am sure I can get some of the finest people in their professions to apprentice you if you are interested."

"Actually, Headmaster, I'm happy where I am now. I help out when I can. I get to study anything I want. And I'm still learning things at school."

"Like what?" James put in. "You're certainly not learning how to prank… I mean socialize with the other kids there," he said.

"Ah, James," Albus interrupted. "Actually he is. All the students there know who he is and from what I've heard about a third of the population come to him from time to time for homework help."

"And I've made friends, dad. More so than here," Harry said trying to make sure his father didn't yank him away from Hogwarts before he had a chance to get rid of Quir-Riddle.

_Ah, that's it, _James thought. _He wants his friends. His girlfriends. Just like his old man. _

That same friends comment struck a similar chord with the rest of the adults there. Harry wanted companionship more than he needed an education at Hogwarts. They all knew Godric's Hollow was a quiet place, but hadn't thought it was so bad for the boy.

"Anyway, if you don't mind, Headmaster, I'd rather not take on any other apprenticeships until I've finished at Hogwarts. I want to stay where there are people my own age. Does that make sense?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that does make sense. I understand Mr. Potter."

**(((o)))**

**January 5, London train station**

The Potter clan again made their way through the barrier of the train station. The Hogwarts Express steamed white waiting for the students to board. Harry looked for any of his friends but didn't see them. Not surprising as they were early – it was an hour before the train departed. Harry didn't want to miss any of them getting on the train. He'd never had this experience before so didn't want to miss it now.

"Do you see any of your friends, honey?" his mum asked, looking around.

"Not yet, mum. I'm sure we'll see them. This is a good spot to see anyone coming through the barrier."

"I can't wait to meet them," she said, obviously interested in meeting the girls that Harry talked about.

"Psst, hey, Shelia."

Shelia looked to her sister and understood at once what she was thinking. "Supply run?"

Supply run," Rose confirmed, checking her wallet. Her parents had given their kids allowances earlier and as always it was a mixture of wizarding and muggle funds. Rose and Shelia had added to it with jobs around the house for Uncle Sirius (not that their dad would ever know).

"You two going somewhere?" Leon asked his siblings.

"Supply run," Shelia supplied.

"Count me in," he said immediately, checking to make sure he still had his wad of emergency pounds, pence, and galleons.

"Distract mum and dad," Rose instructed.

"No problem. Mom, Lily says she needs to go potty!"

"Oh, uh, James, keep an eye on the kids. I'll be right back," adult Lily said to her spouse.

After she had gone off in search of a water closet, Leon said, "Hey, Sylvia, I heard that there is a clown down at the end of the platform making balloon animals." Leon silently thanked his mum yet again for taking everyone to the carnival last year. Sylvia had really enjoyed the performer who made creatures out of balloons. As is, he was still working on ways to enchant them to growl before popping.

"Yay! Balloon animals!" As his little sister started to run off towards the end of the platform, Leon tapped his dad on the shoulder and pointed to where she had run off.

"Aaack! Sylvia, come back!" he yelled, in hot pursuit.

"Harry," Shelia said quickly. "We'll be back. Don't get on the train before then."

Harry grinned at the classic divide and conquer tactic they had used. "No problem. See you soon."

"I saw a candy stand when we came through the portal," Rose bounced off for some sustenance.

Moments later Harry was alone on the semi-busy platform. He looked around and remembered this feeling from years past. But it was a temporary sensation as his family would soon be back and he'd have a little more time before his friends started to show up. Looking around he noticed other kids talking to friends or parents, hugging them and then boarding the train. The platform wasn't packed by any means but there were plenty of people.

Including, as Harry saw, a young blond girl who seemed to be looking for something or someone. Probably lost her folks, Harry mused. He was probably overreacting, but better safe than sorry as Uncle Nick always used to say before trying one of Harry's Thai dishes.

Walking the 30 meters, Harry tapped the girl on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, miss, but are you lost?"

"Oh, I don't think so," she replied lightly. That voice. Harry knew it.

She turned around.

It was Luna Lovegood.

_It's not the same Luna!_ Harry quickly chastised himself. _Close, but not the same! Behave!_

"Uh, er," Harry stammered for an opening line. "You here, uh, with your parents?"

"They're down the way entertaining some kids with balloon animals. It's a hobby of my mother's that I thought would come in handy today. You're looking well, Harry."

"Thanks, Luna. Wait… you know me?" Harry frantically thought back on the alternate-Harry's life. He couldn't think of him meeting Luna before his fourth year.

"Of course, silly. It's not every day you become friends with the Boy-Who-Lived," she smiled at him, clearly entertained.

"You **remember** me? Me?" Harry choked out.

Luna laughed a gentle sound very unlike other girls he knew at Hogwarts – like Pansy (who guffawed most of the time). "Yes, Harry, I certainly know and remember you. I remember lost of things. Two and two is four. London is the capital of England. Fourth year, threstals and the Department of Mysteries with a certain dark lord trying to get a hold of a certain prophecy."

"How? When? Glurk," Harry managed to get out while desperately looking for the right words to convey how he was actually thinking.

"Here, Harry, this ought to help," she said, shoving a rolled paper into his hands.

"Blahbhuh?"

"Honestly, Harry, how do you ever manage conversations with a mouthful of shumtites? You'd best spit them out before they tie up your tongue as an offering to your throat."

Harry knew he needed to do something, so he spat out the shuntites (whatever they were) behind him (nearly striking a 6th year Ravenclaw who had come through the barrier and who also told him to knock it off thank you very much). Mouth refreshed, he again looked at his former (future as well?) friend. "Luna, I can't believe you're here. I mean, how did you…?"

"Probably like you. Read the paper, it'll help. But I don't have much time. I need to give you a warning."

"You still having visions?"

"Yep. You still shadowing all over the world?"

"Yep. So what's the warning? Chew your food?"

"Always good advice and it certainly would have helped the late wizard Renfro Tobiason, but since he'd misplaced his teeth at the time possibly not. Still, that's not what I had in mind."

"Don't drink a lot of water before Herbology as there aren't any nearby water closets and the plants don't like yellow rain?"

"Remember that one do you?"

"It was the last thing you said to me," Harry said seriously.

Luna's face softened as she cupped his cheeks. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry I had to leave. But it's great to see you again. Last time I saw you, you didn't look so good. Are you married yet?"

Harry's face contorted in pain. "No. Before I found you, Ginny had been killed."

Luna's expression turned to one of concern. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. But she's here isn't she? They all are from what I can see."

"It's another Ginny, Luna. Not the same."

"Time to move on?" she cocked her head to the side as if appraising her friend from a different angle.

"Time to move on. I can't wallow in the past. But believe me, I am happy to see you are here. You don't know how much I've longed to talk to someone about what I can do and not just hide everything."

Luna smiled at the statement and the old Luna was nearly back. "You mean like becoming an all-around apprentice at Hogwarts?"

Harry cocked an off-kilter grin as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to put it behind him like he normally did when he didn't know what else to do with his hands. "You know about that?"

"My father does own a newspaper, Harry. Of course we heard about it. Congratulations by the way."

"Thanks. Um, by the way, I'm sorry you died before like… that."

Luna's eyes lit up and she hugged him. "You do realize it wasn't your fault that McNair and Ferguson got the jump on Tracey and me, right?"

Another look of pain shot across his features as he suddenly remembered something he didn't want to. "You're wrong. It's my fault they were there, Luna. They were always after me. Anyone else they managed to get was just collateral damage. Those bloody psychos just didn't care who they hurt as long as it involved me somehow."

"I think they would have been there regardless, Harry. They were specifically looking for the first years we were protecting. They wanted to cause maximum damage. How is Tracey by the way?"

"Her burns were healed but she still has nightmares the last I heard. I hope they diminish over time. She certainly knows those two won't hurt her again. I made sure they didn't live to see sundown. I'm so sorry, Luna. You should have had a chance to live a long life and not die in my arms like that."

"Harry, life happens. And so does death. I understand that more than most. As is, my father followed my mother before I died and now that I'm here I have my family again."

She looked down at her feet and then back to his smiling face. "Harry, as much fun as all this reminiscing is, I still wanted to give you a true warning."

"Shoot."

DING

"Watch alarm?" Harry said, pointing to her arm and the new jewelry adorning it.

Looking down, she replied, "Actually it's a probability sensor. A probability shift may occur soon. That's why I needed to warn you."

Harry became instantly serious. "What is it? Death eaters?"

She waved a hand. "Not that. Harry, listen. You cannot get rid of Voldemort here. It is not your destiny. It is Neville Longbottom's."

"But he's not up to it," Harry pointed out.

"Not **yet** he's not."

"If that means I need to help him reach his potential, you've got to be kidding me. Besides, there's no way I'm going to leave Riddle poking around to even remotely hurt my family. He needs some serious killing."

"I understand what family means, Harry, I really do. And what you do here is totally up to you. You're a powerful wizard, but to get rid of Voldemort, you need Neville's help. And, ultimately, it's Neville's responsibility to resolve."

"That blows, Luna."

She shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. "Yes. It does. But it's also the way things have to be."

"Fine. I get it. Assist, but don't interfere."

"I've had to play by those guidelines quite a few times. It's not easy, especially with those darn Gnarnings swimming through probabilities."

"I'm sure it's not easy with those Gnarish-ey thingies you said."

"True," Luna admitted, "but going to be better now that I've reconnected with my best friend."

"Who's that? Ginny?"

She giggled. "No, silly, it's you. You were always one to see me more than just loony."

An easy smile spread across his face. This was the Luna he knew. "It was easy to do, Luna. You were never loony. You just saw the world in a slightly different way. In fact, you're actually a little more focused now than before."

"It comes from having a family again. And speaking of them, here they come. Yours too if I'm not mistaken."

Sure enough, A swarm of Potters were all coming his way, Shelia, Rose and Leon with a few bags of "supplies" from one direction; the Lily's, both Junior and Senior hand in hand, from another; and Sylvia with James and a balloon creature that could only be a snorkack from far end of the platform.

Luna took his hand in hers. "Thank you, Harry."

"For what, Luna?"

"For being you. Don't be a stranger."

"Expect an owl with a letter soon."

"I'll look forward to it."

Harry smiled as they hugged again briefly and then Luna walked towards a couple that could only be her parents. Not sure of what just happened, a confused Lily and James stared at the diminutive blond for a few seconds before walking up to a waiting Harry.

"Friend of yours, Harry?" his mother inquired.

"Absolutely. A best friend. It was good to see her again."

"That's my boy."

"Dad, I'm not starting a harem. I told you."

"Just you wait until puberty, son. You'll say something different then."

"Uh-huh," he agreed in a disbelieving tone.

**End of Chapter 8**

**Next: Chapter 9 (obviously) ;)**

Omake by Spirit HellFire

Some half-hearted omakes:

The Great Hall went silent as the Potions Master was bombarded with a brown spray of geyser proportion. It stopped within seconds but the damage had been done. He sat there with a wild look of confusion mixed with righteous anger...then changing in shocked awe. Snape's tongue slowly licked his lips...then his hands then his sleeve.

"My God... I taste delicious!"

His then proceeded to lick the soft drink from his long hair, a soft moan escaping his lips.

'Oh Merlin' Harry thought in horror as Snape took off his shirt and began sucking on it 'What have I done?!'

Orgasmic-like moans filled the hall.

Albus cleared his throat and addressed the audience. "After careful consideration and testing, while Professor Snape's biscuits are full of exotic spices, they also contain some toxic levels of mercury and lead. Harry Potter is declared the winner."

"WHAT!?" Snape screamed. "You wouldn't know good cooking if it hit you in the face!" With that his grabbed one of his cookies.

"No! Severus don't eat-!"

Snape ate it whole, and let out a contented sigh as the judges looked on, a greenish nauseating look on their faces.

"M...just how mother used to make them"

By the time the letter finished (and exploded in a shower of confetti), Harry was hiding under the table.

'Well at least it's over...'

Then, the confetti flow up and reformed in to the howler.

"HARWY? HARWY!! I WOVE U BIG BROWTHER! BWEAK OUT AND COME HOME! WOVE, LILY"

This time, it exploded for good.

Harry pull his cloak over his face.

"Hmm... The Wizard King Seth... nah... the Demon Witch Queen Aghaim... no, definitely not... The White Rose Queen Lily? Interesting, and she's hot, but no... hmm? The Demon King Sauron? Very interesting... he looks pretty cool in that black armor... but no... Hmm, the No Life King? That's an odd name..."

"The No Life King is considered to be the kings of vampires as well as being partly responsible for the birth of every vampire. He is said to possess within his body all the souls and bodies of those him or his children have killed regardless of the species. Is known for having a fetish for dungeons. His most known physical quality he has been known to keep through the ages is his long, greased midnight-black hair. In his possession is a cloak that is said to flow in the wind, no matter where the king may be. Witnesses of this include humans, mermen, veelas, mineworkers, brothel employees among many others."

Harry felt a slight chill go up his spine.  
(Done)


End file.
